THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


* 


Puritan  |3agcm 


A    NO^EL 


BY 

JULIEN    GORDON 

AUTHOR    OF 

A   DIPLOMAT'S   DIARY,    A   SUCCESSFUL   MAN, 
MLLE.    RESEDA,  VAMPIRES,    ETC. 


NEW    YORK 

D.     APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 
1891 


COPYRIGHT,  1891, 
BY  D.  APPLETON   AND  COMPANY. 


I     DEDICATE 
THIS    STORY    OF 

A    MAN'S    SIN    AND    REPENTANCE 
TO    EARNEST    PEOPLE. 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 


CHAPTEE  I. 


far  from  where  the  great  soldier  and  Pres- 
ident lies  buried  there  stands  an  old  colonial  man- 
sion, porticoed  and  pillared,  amid  tall  trees,  and 
with  a  bit  of  garden  at  its  back.  Here  Paul  Sor- 
chan,  the  well-known  scientist,  who  gave  to  human- 
ity more  benefits  than  one  poor  brain  could  have 
been  expected  to  bequeath  —  it  is  only  the  man  who 
has  left  somewhat  to  the  world,  whether  a  material 
blessing  or  a  high  example,  whose  life  has  really 
been  worth  the  living  —  here,  I  say,  Sorchan  lived 
with  his  only  child.  The  house  belonged  to  the  girl. 
Sorchan  had  married  a  lovely  Southerner  whom  he 
had  met  while  traveling.  She  had  died  a  year  later 
at  her  daughter's  birth,  living  just  long  enough  to 
give  her  little  girl  a  name,  and,  as  an  inheritance,  a 
large  plantation  and  homestead,  neglected  and  hope- 
lessly out  of  repair,  in  Southern  Georgia.  What  is 
one  man's  poison  is  another  man's  meat  ;  what  one 


6  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

deems  useless,  another  desires.  Everything  has  its 
market.  A  rich  gentleman  dying  of  consumption 
had  been  recommended  to  try  the  South.  From 
the  window  of  his  slowly  moving  train  he  espied 
this  estate,  with  its  noble  forests.  With  a  whim  of 
invalidism,  he  stopped  at  the  next  station  and  sent 
back  to  ask  its  price.  He  was  shortly  answered  by 
a  crabbed  agent,  who  ran  the  farm  with  worse  than 
no  success,  that  it  was  "  not  for  sale."  What  had 
been  a  mere  freak,  a  passing  caprice,  sprang  at  once 
into  a  fierce  longing.  A  large  sum  was  offered. 
Sorchan,  to  whom  the  offer  was  communicated, 
knew  little  of  business,  yet  realized  that  he  had  no 
right  to  refuse  such  an  unlooked-for  opportunity. 
He  therefore  signed  the  deed  which  conveyed  the 
property  of  his  infant  child,  and  invested  a  part  of 
the  money  in  the  house  by  the  river,  where  they 
now  lived,  placing  the  rest  in  trust  to  accumulate 
for  her  until  she  should  be  of  age. 

He  was  himself  of  New  England  origin,  but  the 
great  metropolis  of  the  Northern  States  sucks  unto 
itself  most  of  the  ambition,  vigor,  and  enterprise  of 
the  land.  It  is  at  once  the  encourager  of  labor 
and  its  reward.  This  home  seemed  just  what  was 
required.  The  baby  could  play  in  the  shade,  and 
the  father  could  enjoy  the  repose  of  the  country  or 
whirl  in  the  vortex  of  men  at  his  wish.  His  life 
work  required  both  rest  and  friction,  and  rest  the 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  7 

quiet  homestead  gave  him.  There  were  few  sounds 
about  it,  except  the  chatter  of  swallows  in  the  eaves, 
the  winds  soughing  in  the  branches ;  and  the  wide 
door,  which  generally  stood  open,  admitted  rarely 
other  visitors  than  the  sunlight  on  its  marble  pave- 
ment and  the  dead  leaves  which  blew  in  through  its 
dim  colonnade.  Sorchan  received  and  went  to  the 
houses  of  a  few  men  of  science,  learned  professors 
and  philosophers,  interested  in  such  topics  as 
interested  him,  and,  once  a  year,  usually  in  the 
spring,  their  young  children  came  out  to  play  with 
Paula.  The  silent,  serious  child  was  never  quite 
sure  if  she  enjoyed  these  visitations.  She  simply 
accepted  them,  receiving  her  little  guests  with  a 
grave  hospitality,  a  somewhat  stately,  old-fashioned 
courtesy.  The  city  children  themselves  did  not 
care  much  about  her,  but  enjoyed  the  run  and 
tumble  in  the  grass,  the  grand  creaking  swing,  and 
the  flowers  which  grew  in  rows  behind  the  dark, 
almost  black  hedges  of  box.  About  once  a  year, 
again,  Paula  was  taken  into  the  city  by  Honora,  her 
colored  nurse,  to  repay  these  visits,  and  about  this 
she  had  not  a  shadow  of  a  doubt.  The  expedition 
made  her  profoundly  miserable.  Of  "  society,"  in 
its  wider  meaning,  the  child  and  her  father  knew 
absolutely  nothing.  They  rarely  even  saw  it  at  a 
distance. 

By  and  by,  however,  as  the  girl  grew  apace  to- 


8  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

ward  womanhood  a  change  came  over  the  neglected 
neighborhood.  A  mighty  army  of  laborers  of  every 
land  and  clime — sunburned  Italians,  with  the  sweet, 
sad  smile  of  Italy  still  on  their  lips,  with  the  hidden 
stiletto  quick  to  avenge  indignity,  and  the  loving 
heart  as  quick  to  crave  forgiveness ;  hard-muscled, 
brawny  Germans;  pale,  patient,  hunted -looking 
Poles — were  let  loose  upon  its  quiet  sanctities.  The 
"  boss  "  said  :  "  Them  Polands  is  the  best ;  they've 
got  no  words,  and  eats  nothing."  This  army  of 
locusts  swarmed  and  settled  upon  the  broad  way 
which  separated  the  thinly  scattered  dwellings 
from  the  water.  There  was  a  muttering  and  angry 
screeching  of  dummy  engines,  a  digging  and  up- 
heaval ;  giant  forces  at  work  coping  with  the  resist- 
ance of  a  grim  old  earth.  Rocks  were  blasted  into 
thin  air  with  loud  reports  as  of  some  growling  thun- 
der. Sand  mounds  rose  into  mountains  and  then  as 
suddenly  dwindled  into  ant-hills,  and  behold !  from 
out  of  devastation,  ruin  and  chaos,  a  wide,  wind- 
swept, tree-shaded,  grass-bordered  avenue,  slowly, 
slowly  emerged,  crept  up  and  passed  before  and 
beyond  the  house  where  the  Sorchans  lived.  The 
first  adventurous  people  who  drove  past,  a  lady  and 
gentleman  of  inquiring  spirit,  forcing  their  team 
through  this  perilous  passage  while  it  was  yet 
chaotic,  exclaimed  simultaneously,  "  What  a  charm- 
ing old  place  ! "  "  I  wonder,"  said  the  lady,  "  who 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  9 

can  live  there  ?  It  is  evidently  inhabited,  and  very 
nicely  kept,  too." 

"  One  often  wonders  who  the  people  are  who 
live  all  over  the  world  in  these  queer,  out-of-the-way 
sites,"  said  the  gentleman. 

Twenty  years  earlier  Mr.  Sorchan's  house  would 
have  been  termed  hideous,  with  its  heavy  Grecian 
veranda,  but  the  tides  of  fashion  have  brought  back 
its  quaint  architecture  into  a  momentary  favor. 
The  place  had  once,  indeed,  in  the  simpler  days  of 
the  republic,  been  considered  a  marvel  of  elegance 
and  splendor.  It  had  been  the  summer  residence 
of  a  family  wealthy  and  powerful;  pretty  women 
and  gentlemen  in  wigs  and  knee-breeches  had 
danced  the  gavotte  and  minuet  in  its  stately  draw- 
ing-rooms, and  under  its  porch  the  gallantry  and 
the  coquetry  of  a  by-gone  time  had  rested  in  the 
music's  pauses. 

As  the  months  wore  on  now  the  noise  and  bus- 
tle and  fury  of  work  seemed  gradually  to  dwindle 
until  it  ceased.  The  struggle  was  over.  The  en- 
gine stopped  its  sweating  and  puffing  and  spitting. 
The  workmen  no  more  sat  upon  the  wall  to  eat 
their  black  bread  in  the  sun,  to  mop  their  stream- 
ing foreheads,  swear  and  quarrel,  laugh  and  sing. 
All  were  whirled  away  one  fine  morning  as  if  by 
magic  and  were  replaced  by  a  spare  force  of  cor- 
rect officials  in  gray  uniforms  and  black  hats,  with 


10  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

polished  batons  for  their  insignia.  These  vigilantly 
patrolled  the  foot-path  which  overhung  the  river, 
and  which  was  separated  by  a  bridle-path  from  the 
wider  carriage-road.  So  silence  and  solitude  fell 
once  more. 

Humanity  does  not  realize  its  facilities  and  its 
pleasures  at  once ;  it  would  take  a  little  while  for 
the  rush  of  men  to  learn  its  way  up  toward  the 
heights  where  they  were  bidden  to  "  come  and  see." 
It  was,  indeed,  a  great  prospect:  the  noble  river 
with  its  passenger  steamers,  or  its  lazy  sailing  ships, 
or  its  wide  barges  "  slowly  trailed  "  from  the  "West- 
ern canals,  where  they  had  passed  through  languid 
tides  and  whence  they  were  returning  heavily  laden 
to  the  great  black  docks  of  the  big,  bright  town. 
Again,  the  pleasure  yacht,  with  its  flying  flag  and 
pennon,  its  fired  salute,  its  elegant,  indolent  guests, 
speeding  up  to  West  Point,  perhaps,  in  honor  and 
for  the  entertainment  of  some  foreign  dignitary  or 
diplomat,  or  bound  for  a  day's  amusement,  a  first 
wetting  before  it  tested  the  open  sea  and  joined  the 
squadron's  "  summer  "  cruise.  Beyond  all,  the  dis- 
tant hills,  blue  and  misty,  and  the  nearer  Palisades, 
whose  sun-crowned  walls  lost  in  the  sunset  glow 
their  frowning  aspect. 

Paula,  at  the  window,  watched  all  the  changes 
from  under  fervent  lids — watched  until  one  day, 
at  last,  the  tide  of  fashion  swept  up  the  new  high- 


A  PURITAN   PAGAN.  H 

way,  lifting  it  a  moment  into  ephemeral  fame  upon 
its  gaudily  painted  pinions.  A  half-dilapidated 
house  had  been  rebuilt  and  fitted  up  by  an  enter- 
prising Frenchman  into  a  restaurant  on  the  river 
bank.  Here  one  day,  weary  of  the  old  ruts,  the 
old  amusements,  the  exhausted  social  forces  found 
a  second  hope.  They  came  straggling  up  in  de- 
tachments for  an  ice  or  a  cup  of  tea.  They  came, 
they  saw,  they  noted.  Then  they  said  what  such 
people,  being  wise,  always  say :  "  We  must  organ- 
ize." They  came  on  horseback,  in  low,  swinging 
Victorias,  in  high,  racking  carts,  on  the  tops  of 
coaches.  They  chose  a  day  when  they  would  meet 
here.  They,  who  met  daily,  hourly,  loved  each 
other  little,  often  hated  each  other  cordially,  yet 
could  not  live  out  of  each  other's  sight  for  twelve 
hours.  They  formed  a  club,  a  coterie,  for  a  few 
afternoons  once  a  week  of  an  early  spring,  and  thus 
the  old-fashioned  hostelry  was  transformed  into  a 
brilliant  rendezvous. 

Paula,  as  I  say,  watched  all  this  from  the  win- 
dow, with  her  dog  Gyp  beside  her — Gyp,  too,  liked 
to  see  everything  that  went  on — and  so  watching, 
she  got  to  know  some  of  these  people  by  sight. 
She  fell  in  love  with  a  beautiful  woman  who  wore 
strange  hats  and  carried  stranger  parasols,  and  was 
gay  and  dashing,  and  who  yet  had  in  her  face  some- 
thing sweet  and  even  sad.  She  usually  drove  up 


12  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

with  a  gentleman  in  an  equipage  which  seemed  to 
the  girl  very  fine  and  very  elegant.  Paula  won- 
dered if  any  one  could,  be  sad  who  wore  such  ex- 
quisite clothes.  Not  that  she  herself  cared  much 
for  clothes — she  was  rather  careless  as  to  her  attire 
— but  she  fancied  that  if  one  were  ever  unhappy 
one  would,  of  necessity,  abjure  all  personal  decora- 
tion, like  the  Arabs,  throw  dirt  in  the  air,  cover 
one's  head  with  sackcloth,  and  rend  one's  garments, 
which  proves  that  her  ideas  of  grief  were  excessive- 
ly simple.  It  did  not  occur  to  her,  although  she 
was  now  a  young  lady,  to  envy  these  people,  nor 
had  she  any  of  the  disapproval,  tinctured  with 
caustic  bitterness,  which  sours  the  tongue  and  puck- 
ers up  the  mouth  of  the  aspirant  to  social  honors 
who  fears  or  who  has  already  met  with  defeat.  No, 
their  orbit  was  not  hers.  They  were  too  entirely 
removed.  Her  old  German  governess,  who  came 
to  her  three  times  a  week  for  lessons  in  literature, 
and  who  had  been  kept  to  dinner — all  her  teachers 
were  brought  to  her,  Paula  had  never  been  to 
school — once  tried,  flattening  her  own  nose  against 
the  window-pane,  to  awaken  some  proper  ambitions 
of  a  worldly  sort  in  her  pupil's  breast. 

"  You  ought  to  be  on  that  coach,"  she  said,  as 
the  tooting  jjfern  lured  them  both  to  the  open  pane 
— "  your  father  one  of  the  great  men  of  the  earth, 
and  your  mother  born  of  the  P.  F.'s  of  Georgia,  as 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  13 

she  was  " — (the  governess  appreciated  "  rank,"  as  she 
called  it) — "instead,  my  innocent  lamb,  of  pouring 
over  your  books  and  living  like  a  little  nun.  Your 
papa  makes  you  a  recluse.  He  is  wrong,  all  wrong. 
Mark  my  words,  it  is  a  large  mistake." 

"They  seem  to  enjoy  themselves,"  said  Paula, 
"  but  I  am  afraid  I  should  be  frightened  to  death 
among  them  all.  They  are  so  intimate  together, 
and  I  don't  know  any  of  them.  The  Princess  does 
not  seem  to  have  come  to-day." 

It  was  thus  she  had  named  that  lovely  lady  who 
had  appealed  particularly  to  her  imagination. 

"  Bah  !  Princess  indeed  !  nouveau  riche  prob- 
ably, like  most  of  them.  Not  fine  people,  real  aris- 
tocrats, like  your  father  and  yourself,  mein  kind, 
and  your  aunt,  who  is  a  regular  great  lady,  although 
she  mixes  not  in  the  gayety,  because  she  no  doubt 
despises  it.  Bah !  What  is  this  canaille  that  you 
shouldn't  be  in  it?" 

It  must  be  admitted  that  the  logic  of  this  re- 
mark was  somewhat  involved. 

"  You  like  to  look  at  the  canaille,  Frau  Schultz, 
nevertheless,"  said  Paula  mischievously,  as  her  gov- 
erness ran  to  another  window  and  craned  her  neck 
to  catch  the  last  glimpse  of  the  disappearing  equi- 
pages behind  the  shrubbery  around  the  curve. 

"  And  a  husband  ?  "  asked  the  latter,  when 
there  was  nothing  left  to  be  seen,  returning  to  the 


14  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

room  with  a  somewhat  flushed  face,  "  How  will  you 
have  a  husband  ever,  if  you  see  no  one  ?  It  is  ter- 
rible, terrible ! " 

"  Oh,  he'll  come  along  one  of  these  days,"  said 
Paula.  "  He'll  come  on  a  white  horse  with  a  feath- 
er in  his  hat.  Don't  worry,  Frau  Schultz ;  I  am 
not  a  bit  afraid  of  being  an  old  maid.  That  gypsy 
who  came  here  last  spring  predicted  me,  oh,  such 
queer  things  !  She  said  I  would  marry,  marry  very 
early,  and  that  would  be  only  the  beginning  of  life, 
only  the  very  beginning.  I  would  have  a  great 
trouble,  and  then  all  the  world  at  my  feet,  and  then 
a  lost  joy  would  come  back.  It  was  all  very  inter- 
esting. My  experiences,  she  said,  would  not  be 
ordinary  ones." 

"I  believe  you,"  said  Frau  Schultz,  "for  the 
ordinary  is  not  your  role,  my  little  angel." 

Just  then  a  hansom  cab  drove  through  the  gate, 
rolled  around  the  gravel,  pulled  up  at  the  steps  and 
a  man  jumped  out. 

"  There  he  comes,  the  husband,"  said  Paula, 
laughing.  "  Oh,  deary  me  !  alack  and  alas  !  He 
wears  no  feather  in  his  cap,  but  has  a  hideous  round 
stiff  hat  on  his  head  ;  he  wears  a  dark  overcoat  and 
mounts  no  white  horse,  but  is  driven  in  a  vulgar 
street  cab.  Fie  on  him  !  Fie  on  him ! " 

It  was  indeed  Paula's  husband  who  came  up 
hurriedly  and  rang  the  bell. 


CHAPTER  II. 

HE  remained,  as  well  as  Fran  Schultz,  and  dined 
with  them.  He  was  simply  a  distinguished  lawyer 
who  had  driven  out  to  see  Mr.  Sorchan  d  propos  of 
a  patent  that  the  latter  had  taken  out  on  an  electric 
machine  he  had  invented.  Not  being  himself  a 
shrewd  financier,  he  required  such  a  one  to  look  after 
the  business  necessities  of  his  enterprises.  Norwood, 
although  still  young,  was  already  one  of  the  first 
patent  lawyers  of  the  country,  and  he  was  not  only 
an  extremely  clever,  but  he  was  also  an  attractive 
fellow.  lie  commended  himself  at  once  to  the 
three  strangers  among  whom  he  had  fallen  for  an 
hour  or  two.  Mr.  Sorchan  found  him  an  agreeable 
man  ;  Frau  Schultz  thought  him  very  handsome. 
What  Paula  thought  she  proved  more  decidedly 
later.  She  was  apt  to  keep  her  impressions  to  her- 
self. 

Paul  Sorchan,  through  some  freak  of  nature, 
looked  more  like  an  English  country  squire  than  a 
savant.  He  was  corpulent,  succulent,  ruddy,  pos- 
sessed of  that  florid,  juicy  burliness  which  is  BO  rare 


16  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

in  the  American  of  any  class  or  any  occupation. 
He  was  a  man  of  about  fifty-five,  but  his  heaviness 
made  him  appear  older.  His  individuality  was 
powerful  and  telling;  his  step,  when  he  walked, 
shook  the  house.  He  blew  his  nose  loudly  and 
when  he  sneezed  Sophia  and  Roxy,  the  two  dusky 
ladies  who  presided  over  the  household,  shook  in 
their  wide  shoes.  His  voice  was  deep  and  sonorous. 
He  had  a  chest  which  suggested  lung  power,  plenty 
of  room  for  a  healthy  heart's  action.  Perhaps  that 
is  one  reason  that  his  heart  beat  kindly.  It  is  diffi- 
cult not  to  believe  that  large  valves  and  a  rich 
blood  give  the  pulsations  of  a  generous  impulse.  It 
is,  at  any  rate,  a  plausible  conceit. 

Mr.  Sorchan  was  an  agnostic,  but  Paula  went  to 
church,  to  the  little  chapel  on  the  Heights  with 
Honora  of  a  Sunday  morning.  He  had  brought 
her  up  as  her  mother  would  have  desired,  and  as 
was  fit  for  woman,  in  error.  Men  indulge  in  such 
paradoxes !  He  rarely  talked  of  religious  subjects 
to  her  or  before  her,  but  somehow  to-day  religion 
and  unbelief  were  served  up  at  the  table  with  the 
fruit  and  cheese.  He  and  his  guest  launched  forth 
their  conversational  barks  upon  this  infinite,  bot- 
tomless, fathomless  ocean.  In  the  main  they 


"  It  is  curious,"  said  Mr.  Sorchan,  "  that   the 
ancients  considered  the  deities  generally  malevolent 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  17 

and  to  be  appeased  and  propitiated  by  sacrifices  and 
offerings.  The  Jewish  Jehovah,  you  will  remark, 
was  not  much  better.  In  my  opinion  nothing  can 
be  more  repellent  than  his  portrayal  in  the  ancient 
books — cruel,  jealous,  revengeful.  He  is  repre- 
sented as  possessing  the  worst  human  attributes  of  a 
fretful  old  man,  and  his  greatness  seems  merely  to 
consist  in  a  sort  of  brute  force,  ready  at  any  mo- 
ment to  wreak  its  vengeance,  to  crush  and  mangle 
the  poor  pygmies  he  has  himself  created.  It  is  a 
revolting  picture,  and  it  is  time  the  world  saw  it  in 
its  true  light." 

"  I  perfectly  agree  with  you,"  said  Norwood, 
devouring  a  fine  Bartlett  pear,  and  in  so  doing 
showing  his  splendid  white  teeth  under  his  dark 
auburn-brown  mustache.  "  The  Jewish  Jehovah  is 
an  impossible  being  to  me  as  to  you  ;  one  made  for 
hatred  and  not  for  loving.  You  must  confess,  how- 
ever, that  the  Christian  doctrines  have  done  a  great 
deal  for  civilization.  They  are  certainly  very 
pretty.  "When  better  understood  and  robbed  of 
superstition  they  will  do  more.  Man's  rational 
faculties  seem  incapable  of  slaying  religion.  They 
must,  therefore,  enlarge  it.  Jesus  is  as  historic  as 
Caesar  or  Napoleon.  He  is  a  grand,  simple,  and 
imposing  figure,  in  spite  of  all  the  churches  have 
done  to  traduce  him.  They  imitate  him  in  nothing, 
and  are  only  stumbling-blocks  to  those  who  would. 


18  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

I  suppose  that  if  a  man  were  a  good  Christian,  and 
followed  the  dictates  of  the  Master  he  assumes  to 
believe  in,  he  would  be  as  perfect  a  gentlemen  as 
ever  drew  the  breath  of  life.  But  church  and 
church-going  are  unnecessary  to  a  person  of  intel- 
lect It  may  serve  very  well  for  terrorizing  the 
masses.  Morality  has  no  Hen  on  religion.  Look  at 
the  Unitarians  !  They  are  simply  humanitarians." 

Norwood,  so  speaking,  finished  his  pear,  care- 
fully wiped  his  red  lips  and,  smacking  them  with 
the  agreeable  memory  of  the  ripe  fruit  which  had 
been  so  rare  a  treat,  "  That  was  a  delicious  pear," 
he  said. 

"  I  have  taught  in  a  Unitarian  family,"  ventured 
Frau  Schultz.  "  They  were  excellent  people.  They 
had  no  emotion.  They  looked  like  little  cold  clams. 
I  think  they  knew  not  temptation.  People  who 
know  not  temptation  need  not  religion,  perhaps." 

"  These  pears  grow  in  our  own  garden,"  said 
Sorchan,  "and  I  shall  be  glad  to  smoke  a  cigar 
there  with  you  after  dinner  and  show  you  my  fruit 
trees.  But  I  do  not  know  that  I  entirely  agree 
with  what  you  say.  ..."  and  so  they  continued 
upon  the  same  themes. 

Frau  Schultz,  being  a  woman  of  the  world,  con- 
cluded not  to  be  shocked.  Men  would  be  men  and 
could  not  be  muzzled.  She  was  herself  a  believer, 
but  her  dear  husband  had  not  been  one.  She  was 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  19 

not  able  to  see  that  he  was  much  the  worse  for  it. 
Later,  when  the  men  were  smoking,  she  drew  near 
Paula  and  spoke  a  word. 

"  It  is  strange,"  she  said,  "  but  there  was  Prince 
Pus  Pus,  who  was  ff  devout  man  and  pious,  and 
who  was  very  gay  and  wild.  He  ruined  himself 
and  his  children.  I  knew  them  all  when  I  was 
young,"  and  she  sighed.  "  While  my  husband,  who 
was  called  a  Deist,  and  was  not  orthodox,  was  so 
pure,  so  pure — just  like  a  little  young  girl  when  he 
married  me,  and  always  stayed  a  good  man  ever 
afterward." 

Paula  loved  to  hear  about  Prince  Pus  Pus  and 
his  children,  Gretchen,  Matilda,  Carl.  It  was  al- 
most more  amusing  than  the  late  professor's  purity. 

"  Papa's  an  angel,"  said  Paula.  "  I  am  sure  he 
only  talks  that  way.  He  knows  so  many  things — 
he  has  to  talk.  But  how,  if  he  were  so  religious, 
could  the  Prince  worry  his  daughters  so  ? " 

As  to  her  own  father's  security  in  this  world  or 
the  next  she  felt  no  anxiety. 

"  Ah ! "  said  Frau  Schultz  ;  "  it  has  to  be. 
What  will  you  have  ?  With  those  people,  they  are 
carried  away.  It  is  not  like  the  little  bourgeois  life 
one  sees  here.  It  is  a  whirlpool.  They  are  swal- 
lowed up." 

Paula  thought  it  sounded  rather  agreeable  on 
the  whole — to  be  swallowed  up.  Terrible,  but  at 


20  A   PURITAN  PAGAN. 

the  same  time  fascinating.  Crime,  to  the  young,  is 
only  a  word. 

"And  the  Schloss  had  to  be  sold,  with  the 
swans  on  the  lake,  and  the  summer-house  where 
the  marble  goddess  was  ? "  continued  Paula,  just  as 
little  children  egg  on  their  elders  to  finish  an  oft- 
repeated  fairy  story. 

"  Ach,  kind!  all,  all,"  said  Frau  Schultz,  "  Even 
to  little  Carl's  donkey-carriage,"  and  she  shook  her 
head  until  her  black  curls  danced  up  and  down  like 
little  corkscrews.  "  Still,"  she  went  on  after  a  mo- 
ment's pause,  "  it  may  be  that  if  Prince  Pus  Pus 
had  had  no  religion  he  might  have  been  worse  than 
he  was.  He  had  a  good  heart." 

When  the  coffee  had  been  served,  before  they 
had  left  the  table,  an  amused  smile  had  suddenly 
broken  over  Mr.  Sorchan's  face,  and  then  he  had 
given  vent  to  one  of  those  huge  laughs  which  made 
the  wine-glasses  on  the  side-board  jingle.  He  had 
looked  first  at  his  daughter  and  then  at  Norwood. 

"  It  is  the  funniest  thing  in  the  world,"  he  said. 
The  others  joined  in  the  laughter,  but  did  not  know 
why.  "  'Pon  my  honor  !  You  two  " — and  he 
again  scanned  the  faces  of  the  younger  people — 
"  you  two  are  enough  alike  to  be  brother  and  sis- 
ter." 

Everybody  looked  at  everybody,  and  there  was 
a  general  exclamation.  Frau  Schultz  had  remarked 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  21 

it  herself.  Norwood  said,  "It's  the  noses."  Fi- 
nally they  got  up  and  went  together  to  a  low-pan- 
eled mirror  which  hung  over  the  mantel-shelf. 
They  leaned  to  it,  marking  the  similarities,  making 
notes  aloud  of  the  differences. 

"  My  forehead,"  Paula  averred,  "  is  lower  and 
my  eyes  are  larger  and  darker.  My  upper  lip  is 
shorter  than  yours." 

"  But  our  noses,"  persisted  Norwood,  "  are  very 
much  alike.  Long,  straight,  regular." 

"  You  have  more  color  in  your  face  than  I," 
said  Paula.  "  Your  skin  is  lighter  by  a  shade." 

"  Our  mouths  and  chin,  are  not  much  alike,"  he 
said. 

"Your  chin  is  more  affectionate  than  mine," 
said  the  girl,  laughing  shyly  up  at  him,  "  more  for- 
giving. Mine  is  haughty  and  implacable." 

This  examen  was  not  without  its  charms :  possi- 
bly its  dangers.  Norwood  did  not  quarrel  with  its 
suggestions.  It  necessitated  a  close  proximity  to  a 
young  person  who  appeared  to  him  distinctly  inter- 
esting. Her  personality  was  quite  different  from 
that  of  the  young  ladies  he  knew  and  visited  in  the 
city  from  which  he  came — he  was  a  stranger  here — 
and  who  inspired  him  with  a  mixture  of  contempt 
and  admiration.  He  had  found  his  dinner  at  Mr. 
Sorchan's  agreeable  enough. 

This  new-found  likeness  led  to  his  being  shown 


22  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

the  portrait  of  the  late  Mrs.  Sorchan,  which  hung 
in  the  long  drawing-room  and  was  its  principal  or- 
nament. It  was  a  striking  portrayal,  in  Healy's 
best  manner,  of  a  very  lovely  woman.  Paul  Sor- 
chan stood  before  it  for  fully *five  minutes  without 
speaking ;  then,  wheeling  suddenly  upon  his  heels 
— a  way  he  had — 

"  Young  man,"  he  said,  tapping  his  guest  on  the 
breast,  "  young  man,  when  you  have  pursued  a 
woman  like  that  with  a  hopeless  love  for  three 
years,  won  her  to  be  yours  at  last  and  then  lost  her, 
you  will  have  learned  what  it  is  to  live  and  to  suf- 
fer. No,  sir,"  he  went  on,  "  if  there  be  another 
world,  as  she  firmly  believed,  there  shall  be  no 
complications  for  me  there.  My  sister-in-law  has 
blamed  me  for  not  giving  Paula  a  stepmother  who 
would  look  after  her,  take  her  into  the  world.  The 
fact  is,  sir,  I  can't  do  it.  I  don't  pass  for  a  senti- 
mentalist, but  perhaps  I  am  one.  I  have  had  no 
heart  for  the  world  since  I  lost  my  dear  wife."  He 
fumbled  in  his  coat  pocket,  pulled  out  a  red  silk 
handkerchief  and  blew  his  nose  loudly. 

Norwood  was  touched.  An  impulse  foreign  to 
his  nature,  which  was  reserved  with  that  frightful 
reserve  of  the  American,  that  incapability  of  ex- 
pression which  becomes  solidified  into  a  tyrannical 
habit,  made  him  seek  and  press  his  host's  broad 
hand  in  his  own  palm,  red  bandanna  and  all. 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  23 

This  little  incident  made  them  friendly.  They 
now  fell  to  talking  of  Mr.  Sorchan's  business  inter- 
ests. The  young  lawyer  stayed  late. 

Norwood  was  forced  by  the  pressing  calls  of  his 
profession  to  travel  extensively.  He  was  often  in 
the  capital.  Now  he  would  be  detained  here  for 
several  weeks ;  there  was  an  intricate  law  case 
which  required  his  assiduous  attention.  He  was 
stopping  at  a  hotel.  It  was  not  the  gay  season  in 
town,  and  so  it  came  to  pass  that  he  often  drove  out 
in  the  twilight  to  the  old  house  by  the  river.  It 
seemed  to  him  a  very  haven  of  peace  and  repose. 
His  own  home,  which  was  near  Boston,  was  not  a 
congenial  one  to  him,  and  he  never  remained  in  it 
many  weeks  at  a  time.  His  mother  had  married 
again,  and  there  was  a  large  family  of  young  half 
brothers  and  sisters.  During  his  early  youth  her 
house  had  been  a  nursery  ;  it  was  now  a  school- 
room. He  was  generally  glad  enough  of  an  excuse 
to  prolong  his  absence,  but  he  was  good-natured,  and 
to  please  his  mother  still  kept  his  room  under  her 
roof  and  his  hat  hung  in  her  hall.  How  different 
the  quaint  atmosphere  of  this  dignified  household 
with  its  Southern  negro  servants,  its  maiden  hostess, 
its  genial,  brilliant  host !  How  pleasant  the  rambles 
on  the  bank  at  nightfall  with  the  man  of  genius  and 
his  daughter  under  the  aspens  and  maples,  the  dis- 
tant shores  just  visible  to  them  in  the  trend  of  a 


24  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

young  moon.  Looking  back  afterward  from  amid 
the  gray  ashes  of  disaster  how  often  he  remembered 
the  peaceful  shadows  of  these  spring  nights  which 
hung  misty  and  dreamful  over  a  roseate  past !  O 
gioventu  primavera  della  vita  !  " 

One  day  Mr.  Sorchan  asked  him  suddenly,  "  Do 
you  ever  see  dark  spots  before  your  eyes — a  kind 
of  blur  which  comes  and  goes  ? " 

"No,  never,"  said  Norwood.  "Are  you  suffer- 
ing from  your  eyes  ?  " 

"  I  can  not  say  suffering,  but  annoyed,  bothered. 
It  comes  between  me  and  my  work,  my  writing  and 
figuring,  particularly  the  left  eye.  "When  I  cover 
the  other,  things  grow  indistinct.  I  haven't  told 
Paula,,  so  don't  speak  before  her ;  she'd  fret  over  it." 

"  Don't  you  think  you  ought  to  tell  her  ?  Don't 
you  think  you  ought  to  see  a  physician  ? " 

"  No,  sir,"  he  replied.  "  Not  one  of  those  jack- 
asses for  me.  I've  probably  overstrained  the  optic 
nerve,  or  something  of  that  sort." 

"  Your  daughter,"  hazarded  Norwood,  a  trifle 
awkwardly,  "looks  to  me  as  if  she  might  rise  to 
any  emergency — have  plenty  of  pluck  and  good 
sense,  too." 

"My  little  girl,"  said  Sorchan,  smiling  and 
knocking  the  hot  ashes  from  his  pipe  against  the 
rung  of  his  chair — they  were  sitting  upon  the 
veranda  between  the  columns  — "  my  little  girl 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  25 

ought  to  have  been  a  boy.  She  was  meant  for 
one,  I  am  sure.  Plucky !  I  guess  she  is !  And 
the  child's  got  a  man's  mind,  too.  Why,  she's 
helped  me  a  thousand  times  in  my  most  intricate 
work,  and  withal  she's  as  happy  as  a  cricket  and 
as  innocent.  Society !  What  would  have  society 
done  but  spoil  her?  At  any  rate  the  few  people 
she  does  see  are  cultivated  and  refined.  Not  vul- 
gar upstarts  to  turn  her  head  with  their  frivolities. 
She  has  had  very  little,  but  she  has  had  no  bad 
companionship.  That's  something.  I  tell  you 
what,  she's  a  trump !  and  she's  good-looking,  too, 
although  she'll  never  come  anywhere  near  her 
mother." 

The  young  lady  in  question  appeared  at  this 
moment  in  the  doorway.  She  had  slipped  over 
her  light-blue  cotton  gown  a  short  coat  of  her 
father's  whose  large  sleeves  hung  far  down  over 
her  brown  hands,  and  on  her  head  was  a  soft  hat 
of  his,  pushed  somewhat  away  from  the  forehead 
and  its  frieze  of  dark  chestnut  hair.  She  was  hold- 
ing the  coat,  which  would  have  comfortably  cov- 
ered three  of  her  size,  lapped  over  across  her  slen- 
der bust.  Her  dog  was  barking  with  excitement 
at  her  heels. 

"  Holla,  my  little  lad  !  Is  that  you  ? "  said  her 
father,  laughing.  "  Mr.  Norwood,  this  is  my  son 
Paul." 


26  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

She  did  indeed  look  like  a  boy,  and  Norwood 
thought  it  not  unattractive.  She  was  strangely  de- 
void of  coquetry,  but  its  absence,  which  is  a  very 
doubtful  charm  in  a  woman,  seemed  to  suit  her 
peculiar  faroucJie  type.  Her  beauty,  if  she  had 
any — Norwood  was  not  quite  sure — was  not  now, 
whatever  it  might  become,  of  a  kind  which  ap- 
pealed sensuously.  Yet  one  felt  that  it  might  touch 
the  imagination.  One  can  not  feed  the  senses  and 
the  imagination  at  the  same  moment.  Such  as  she 
was  she  suited  Norwood's  present  mood.  He  had 
remembered  the  "  implacable  chin."  What  did  she 
mean,  he  wondered.  It  had  seemed  to  him  rather 
a  pretty  chin.  Would  she  be  an  implacable  woman  ? 
What  would  be  the  outgrowth  of  a  Southern  and 
New  England  ancestry  ?  Probably  rather  charming 
— Southern  fire  and  fervency  mingled  with  and 
tempered  by  New  England  common  sense — a  grate- 
ful balance. 

He  was  himself  a  Puritan  of  the  Puritans.  He 
hated  it,  but  could  not  shake  it  off ;  nothing  can : 
not  license,  not  libertinage.  Nor  can  it  be  drowned 
in  the  cup.  It  remains  a  drop  in  the  blood  always 
with  its  sense  of  guilt,  its  dark,  morbid  capacity  of 
remorse ;  the  taint,  if  you  will,  of  an  inherited  con- 
scientiousness ;  bitter,  harsh,  often  inconvenient, 
but  ineffaceable.  Death  alone  will  dry  it  out  of 
one's  veins.  He  fell  to  recalling  an  episode  of  his 


A  PURITAN   PAGAN.  27 

past.  He  had  been  very  much  in  love,  so  he  had 
imagined  at  the  time,  with  an  exquisite  Roman 
lady,  a  Marchesa,  who  was  the  belle  of  the  Eternal 
City  while  he  was  there,  a  young  fellow,  studying 
Roman  law.  They  had  met  at  a  ball  at  the  English 
Embassy,  and  for  some  reason,  unexplainable  to  his 
modesty,  she  had  taken  a  fancy  to  him.  He  was 
sitting  at  her  small  feet  one  day  looking  up  into  her 
blue  eyes — she  had  blue  eyes  and  was  rousse,  which 
had  largely  contributed  to  her  successes  in  the  land 
of  dark  tresses — when  she  called  to  her  side  a  girl 
of  about  ten  years,  who  was  being  educated  with 
her  own  daughters. 

"  Come  here,  Ninette,"  she  had  said,  "  and  speak 
English  to  Monsieur." 

"  How  do  you  do  ? "  said  Ninette,  gravely  exe- 
cuting the  first  position.  She  was  a  pale  child,  with 
great  luminous  eyes  and  a  low  voice. 

"  Ninette  speaks  English  very  nicely.  Say 
something  more,"  continued  the  Marchesa,  encour- 
agingly. 

"  I  like  you  verie  much,  sire,"  said  Ninette. 

The  Marchesa  played  for  a  moment  with  the 
girl's  hair  and  then  dismissed  her  with  a  smile. 
"There,  that  will  do,"  she  said.  She  quickly 
wearied  of  any  new  form  of  entertainment.  "  Run 
away  now." 

"Is  she  a  relative?"    asked  Norwood,  fain  to 


28  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

show  interest  in  anything  that  concerned  his  be- 
loved. 

"Not  at  all,  not  in  the  least.  "Why  do  you 
ask  ?  Do  you  think  she  resembles  the  Marquis  ?  " 

Norwood  opened  his  eyes. 

"  No,"  said  his  fair  friend,  smiling,  "  my  hus- 
band brought  her  to  me  one  day  and  said :  '  Here 
is  the  child  of  a  dead  friend ;  be  good  to  her,'  and 
I've  been  good  to  her.  She's  a  gentle  creature,  and 
she  amuses  the  children.  She  remains." 

"  You  are  an  angel — "  began  Norwood,  hotly. 

"  I  think  so,  too,"  continued  the  Marchesa,  "  for 
entre  nous,  mon  ami"  and  she  leaned  down  to 
Norwood  under  an  outspread  fan,  while  her  violet 
breath  passed  through  his  hair — "  entre  nous,  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  she  was  one  of  the  Marquis's 
own !  " 

As  the  lady  laughed,  Norwood,  in  his  lately  as- 
sumed role  of  an  American  man  of  the  world,  felt 
called  upon  to  laugh  too.  But  it  must  be  conceded 
that  his  merriment  was  somewhat  forced,  and  that 
his  ancestry  rose  and  cried  out  rather  loudly  under 
his  waistcoat.  His  taste  was  offended,  his  morals 
scandalized,  but  he  would  have  died  rather  than  ad- 
mit it  to  himself.  He  laughed  the  empty,  soulless, 
perfunctory  laughter  convention  imposes  upon  us, 
and  persuaded  himself  it  was  a  hearty  indorsement 
of  these  large-minded  foreign  methods.  This  ab- 


A  PCJIUTAX   PAGAX.  29 

sence  of  all  jealous  rancor  and  petty  prejudice  was 
superb,  and  what  he  himself  immeasurably  admired. 
He  wondered  what  the  attitude  of  his  own  mother 
or  aunt  would  have  been  under  similar  solicitations 
and  suspicions,  and  closed  his  eyes  not  to  evoke  the 
picture. 

To-night,  when  he  thought  of  Paula's  "impla- 
cable "  chin,  he  said  to  himself :  "  She  would  not 
be  like  the  Marchesa,"  and  he  was  not  now  forced 
to  persuade  himself  that  it  was  desirable.  Yet,  on 
the  other  hand,  was  it  not  wiser — wiser,  better  to 
take  the  poor  little  waif  and  be  "good"  and  nurture 
it — to  give  the  man  a  chance  to  retrieve  his  fault 
than  to  condemn  the  child  to  a  public  nursery,  the 
husband  to  endless  persecutions,  and  one's  self  to 
scandal  ?  But  what  would  his  mother  and  his  Aunt 
Jane  have  said  ?  He  laughed  aloud  under  his  hat 
when  he  thought  of  it :  "  Away  with  the  offender ! 
Away  with  the  brat !  "  Well,  after  all,  such  senti- 
ments were  healthier,  more  natural,  more  rugged. 

And  Paula?  With  her  rich  voice  that  had 
a  masculine  note  in  it,  and  yet  was  always  low, 
never  harsh,  and  her  father's  coat  wrapped  about 
her,  Paula  was  not  like  any  one  else.  She  did  not 
dress  up  much,  but  how  fresh  and  clean  and  whole- 
some was  her  smooth  cheek !  Implacable  ?  Ah  ! 
no.  Her's  was  surely  a  magnanimous  nature.  It 
was  written  all  over  her  person.  The  Marchesa 


30  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

had  certainly  been  very  lovely,  and  it  had  even  oc- 
curred to  him  before  he  parted  from  her  that 
jealousy  was  not  quite  foreign  to  her  nature.  Of 
course  the  Marquis  was  not  a  lover.  He  himself 
had  never  been  a  lover  to  the  Marchesa  in  the  Ital- 
ian sense ;  he  sometimes  had  wondered  why.  He 
had  probably  missed  an  opportunity — he  had  missed 
several  of  the  same  character  in  his  life.  On 
the  whole  his  memory  of  the  episode  was  possibly 
pleasanter  owing  to  this  fact,  which  proves  that  he 
had  been  a  very  cold  adorer  after  all. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ONE  day,  in  walking  across  his  study,  which  was 
a  large  room  on  the  second  floor,  and  a  very  chaos 
of  what  Honora  called  "  infernal  engineries,"  Mr. 
Sorchan  fell  over  and  knocked  himself  against  a 
book-case.  He  had  not  seen  it.  He  again  closed 
his  right  eye,  with  his  finger  tightly  held  over  the 
lid,  and  examined  the  offending  article  of  furniture 
with  his  left.  He  found  that  he  did  not  even  dis- 
tinguish its  outline.  He  was  frightened — terribly 
so.  His  brave  heart  rose  up  in  his  throat  with  a 
loud  thump.  He  rang  the  bell  quickly  and  ordered 
Eoxy,  whose  shining  visage  appeared  in  the  door- 
way, to  summon  Miss  Paula. 

"  My  child,"  he  said  to  her,  when  she  was  beside 
him,  "  I  want  you  to  look  at  this  eye  of  mine."  He 
wore  glasses,  and  people  rarely  saw  his  eyes  clearly. 

Paula  approached.  "  Papa,"  she  said,  "  it  looks 
queerly,  as  if  there  was  a  little  gray  film  over  it. 
Does  it  hurt  you?" 

"  Order  the  carriage,"  he  said,  shortly,  "  and  get 
ready  to  go  into  town  with  me." 


32  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

The  sorrel  horses,  with  their  flowing,  unfashion- 
able tails,  were  put  into  the  rather  countrified 
equipage,  while  the  negro  coachman  buttoned  him- 
self into  his  well-worn  dark  blue  livery. 

"  They're  a  lot  of  idiots,"  murmured  Mr.  Sor- 
chan,  as  he  heavily  came  down-stairs  and  got  him- 
self into  his  conveyance,  "  and  I've  heard  this  one 
was  a  brute  into  the  bargain."  Nevertheless  he 
gave  the  order,  "  Drive  into  the  city  and  stop  at 
Dr.  Krupp's  hospital." 

Old  Peter  touched  his  hat.  The  building  was  a 
prominent  and  well-known  one.  Here  the  eminent 
German  oculist  had  for  several  years  floated  the 
banner  of  his  renown  in  a  new  world,  where  his 
political  views  could  not  stand  in  the  way  of  his  suc- 
cess. He  had  quarreled  with  his  Emperor. 

Paula  was  very  silent  during  the  drive.  She 
slipped  one  thin,  cold  hand  into  her  father's  warm, 
thick  palm,  and  kept  it  there  all  the  way. 

"  Go  to  the  private  door,  you  fool ! "  bawled 
Mr.  Sorchan  to  his  man  when  they  reached  the 
steps,  up  which  troops  of  people,  many  with  band- 
aged eyes,  were  ascending — a  Jacob's  ladder  of  mis- 
fortune. 

Peter  wheeled  about  and  drew  up  at  the  small 
entrance  on  a  side  street.  Paula  and  her  father 
alighted. 

They  were  ushered  into  a  long,  narrow,  dark 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  33 

sitting-room,  around  whose  walls  sat  and  crouched 
some  twenty  dejected -looking  individuals,  some 
holding  their  heads  disconsolately  in  their  hands, 
others  dabbing  at  their  eyes  witli  their  pocket  hand- 
kerchiefs. Every  now  and  then  a  dapper  little 
man,  dressed  in  black  broadcloth,  came  in  and 
swept  before  him,  in  groups,  about  five  of  these  per- 
sons together,  through  a  glass  door  into  a  back 
room,  after  which  incursion  the  portals  closed  upon 
them  with  a  bang. 

Mr.  Sorchan  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair.  Paula 
thought  their  turn  would  never  come.  It  did  come, 
however,  at  last.  They  found  the  great  physician 
standing  behind  a  table  talking  to  a  man  with  a 
sallow  face  and  tremulous  hands.  He  gave  them  a 
sharp  glance  and  nod  and  waved  them  to  a  seat 
close  to  the  wall.  This  apartment  was  more  cheer- 
ful than  the  other  one.  It  was  sunny  and  bright, 
with  a  big  coal  fire  in  the  grate,  and  there  were 
some  green  plants  at  the  window. 

"  "  If,"  Dr.  Krupp  was  saying  to  the  sallow  man, 
"  you  persist  in  your  present  course,  I  can  answer 
for  nothing.  If,  on  the  contrary,  you  reform,  put 
yourself  on  a  strict  diet,  above  all  avoid  stimulants, 
do  as  I  have  ordered  you,  the  left  eye  will  be  saved 
and  the  right  may  in  time  improve." 

"  And  what  will  happen  to  me  if  I  don't  ? " 
asked  the  sallow  man  in  a  dogged,  hopeless,  dis- 


34:  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

cordant  voice,  which  trembled  as  much  as  his 
hands. 

"  Then,  sir,"  said  the  doctor,  glaring  fiercely  at 
him,  "  then,  sir,  there  will  ensue  complete  paralysis 
of  the  optic  nerve,  and,  in  consequence,  total  blind- 
ness. Good-day." 

The  sallow  man  gave  forth  a  gurgling  sound  with 
his  throat,  bowed,  and  shuffled  out  of  the  room. 

"  Your  turn  next,  Mrs.  Madden,"  said  the  usher, 
smiling. 

Two  ladies  drew  near.  They  were  pretty,  young, 
and  looked  like  sisters.  They  led  between  them  a 
little  boy,  whose  eyes  were  concealed  by  a  smoky 
pair  of  colored  spectacles.  He  was  a  lovely  child, 
with  golden  curls  hanging  over  his  shoulders,  hand- 
somely dressed,  as  were  also  the  women  who  accom- 
panied him. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Dr.  Krupp,  unbending  a  lit- 
tle, "  how  goes  it,  my  lad  ? "  and  he  quickly  drew 
off  the  glasses. 

The  boy  shrank,  shivering  a  little. 

"  There,  there,  my  dear  baby !  Be  a  little  man," 
said  the  mother. 

"  I'll  give  you  the  gun,"  whispered  the  aunt, 
lovingly  laying  one  hand  on  the  boy's  elbow. 

"Oh!  oh!  it  hurts!"  cried  the  little  fellow, 
squirming  as  the  doctor  turned  up  his  long  silken 
eyelashes  over  his  gold  pencil-case. 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  35 

"  Does  he  frolic  much  ?  "  asked  the  doctor,  con- 
tinuing his  examination  through  a  round  magnify- 
ing lens. 

"  He  used  to  before  his  eyes  were  bad,"  said 
Mrs.  Madden,  gulping  down  a  sob.  "  There,  my 
angel !  There,  mother's  pet  lamb,"  and  she  smoothed 
the  light  curls  away  from  the  white,  blue-veined 
forehead. 

"  "Well,  let  him  frolic,  let  him  frolic ;  let  him  be 
out  of  doors,  but  no  wind,  no  smoke,  no  dust,  mind 
you.  Plenty  of  milk  and  a  little  fruit ;  not  too 
much  meat ;  a  chop  once  a  day." 

"  And  the  remedies  ? " 

"  The  same,  the  same,"  said  Dr.  Krupp,  reach- 
ing for  a  bottle  and  dropping  a  drop  of  liquid  into 
the  boy's  eye. 

"  That  feels  good,"  said  the  child  ;  "  cool." 

"  I  ain't  going  to  hurt  you,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  Why,  bless  me,  I  thought  you  wanted  to  be  a 
soldier." 

"  Doctor,"  said  Mrs.  Madden,  "  tell  me  more 
definitely  about  the  drops.  The  blue  bottle  in  the 
morning,  the  red  one  at  night — how  many  each 
time  ? " 

"The  same  thing — the  same  thing  I  told  you 
before,"  said  the  doctor,  impatiently,  "and  don't 
let  the  bandage  at  night  with  the  grease  be  too 
tight.  Good-day." 


36  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

The  lady  looked  around  the  room  with  a  dazed, 
alarmed  expression,  as  if  asking  counsel  and  assist- 
ance from  the  other  patients.  Her  sister  raised  her 
shoulders  with  a  deprecating  gesture,  and  the  man 
in  black  broadcloth  hurried  them  out. 

It  was  not  yet  Sorchan's  turn.  Paula  rose,  arid, 
stepping  across  the  room,  touched  Dr.  Krupp's 
arm. 

"  Well  ? "  lie  said  to  her. 

"  When  you  come  to  papa,"  she  whispered, 
"  please  sir,  oh,  please,  if  it's  very  serious  don't  tell 
him  at  once.  Tell  me.  He's  Mr.  Sorchan.  It 
would  kill  him  to  have  to  stop  his  work  for  long." 

"  My  young  lady,"  said  Dr.  Krupp,  gruffly  and 
very  loud,  "  will  you  have  the  kindness  to  wait  for 
your  turn  ?  I've  got  enough  to  do  with  my  patients 
without  having  their  friends  making  a  fuss  and  tak- 
ing up  my  time." 

Paula  returned  to  her  seat,  her  dark  eyes  filled 
with  angry  tears.  "What  did  you  say  to  him?" 
asked  her  father  irritably. 

"  I  will  tell  you  later,"  said  Paula,  trying  to 
smile  at  her  father.  It  was  a  showery  effort. 

When  their  turn  came,  it  being  a  first  examina- 
tion, they  were  conveyed  into  an  obscure  closet 
which  held  themselves,  the  doctor,  and  the  usher. 
A  flood  of  greenish  light  was  suddenly  turned  upon 
Paul  Sorchan's  eyes  and  brow. 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  37 

"How  old  are  you,  Mr.  Sorchan?"  said  the 
oculist. 

"  Fifty-five,"  answered  the  scientist. 

"  Strange,  very  strange,  there  should  have  been 
no  signs  of  senility  for  twenty  years  or  more  in  one 
so  vigorous  as  yourself." 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  Tell  me  the  worst  at  once," 
said  Sorchan,  huskily,  after  a  longer,  a  conscien- 
tious, and  a  very  serious  examination. 

"Well,  sir,  you've  got  a  cataract,  a  beautiful 
one,  sir,  on  your  left  eye.  Beautiful,  sir  ;  ripe  as  a 
blown  peach:  just  ready  for  operation;  and  an- 
other, yes,  let  me  see — another  is  beginning  to  form 
on  the  other  eye,  but  this  one,  we  hope,  can  be  ar- 
rested. They  sometimes  hang  on  that  way  for 
years.  I'm  afraid  you've  been  working  too  hard." 

"  My  God  ! "  said  Mr.  Sorchan. 

Before  they  left  it  had  been  almost  definitely  de- 
cided that  Mr.  Sorchan  would  enter  the  private  hos- 
pital on  the  next  week.  Krupp  refused  to  go  to 
people's  own  houses,  probably  lest  he  should  not  be 
enough  their  master.  He  had  quarreled  with  his 
emperor  because  of  his  liberal  politics,  and  he  hated 
monarchies ;  but  in  his  own  small  kingdom  he  was 
a  despot  and  a  tyrant.  His  docile  German  wife 
tremblingly  obeyed  his  bidding,  while  his  two 
flaxen-haired  children  scampered  away  in  terror  at 
the  mere  sound  of  his  footstep  on  the  threshold. 


38  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  How  long  are  they  shut  up  ? "  asked  Paula 
calmly  of  the  usher. 

"  Oh,  from  two  to  three  weeks  ;  that's  all,  miss, 
if  inflammation  doesn't  set  in.  After  that  there's 
the  second  operation." 

"  The  second !  "  she  gasped  now. 

"Yes.  Skin  forms  again;  has  to  be  removed. 
Don't  amount  to  anything,"  said  the  dapper  man, 
glibly.  "  I  wouldn't  tell  your  pa  about  that,  miss. 
We  never  tell  'em  at  first  about  the  second.  It  sort 
of  discourages  them." 

"  Do  the  operations  generally  succeed  ? "  asked 
the  girl. 

"  Yes,  miss,  nearly  always  with  Dr.  Krupp.  Out 
of  a  hundred  about  ninety.  Your  pa  ain't  an  old 
man.  Why,  we  operated  on  a  lady  of  eighty-four 
last  year  and  she's  reading  her  newspaper  and  her 
Bible  as  chipper  as  can  be.  Your  pa'll  come 
through,  don't  you  fret,"  he  said  cheerily. 

Paula  could  not  trust  herself  to  answer— and 
then  they  were  driven  home. 

The  next  Friday  afternoon — this  had  been  a  Sat- 
urday— Paula  and  her  father  sat  up-stairs  in  the  big 
room  with  two  beds  in  it  where  he  was  to  be  oper- 
ated upon  and  close  to  which  was  a  smaller  room 
which  had  been  secured  for  her.  She  was  rubbing 
the  bald  spot  on  the  top  of  her  father's  head  with 
her  right  hand.  It  was  a  comfort  to  them  both. 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  39 

A  fresh-looking  German  girl,  with  heavy  flaxen 
braids  fastened  by  a  blue  ribbon,  tripped  in  and 
began  to  sprinkle  the  carpeted  floor. 

"  What  do  you  do  that  for  ? "  asked  Mr.  Sor- 
chan. 

"  To  lay  the  doost,"  said  the  Teutonic  maiden. 

By  and  by  she  came  in  again  and  dropped  a 
drop  of  something  under  the  patient's  left  lid. 

"What  is  it?  "asked  he. 

"  Ach !  that's  the  new  medicine  that  keeps  from 
the  pain,"  she  replied. 

She  returned  twice  within  a  half-hour  and 
dropped  in  another  drop.  The  matron  of  the  es- 
tablishment now  entered,  bustling.  She  was  a 
pleasant-looking  person  of  about  forty-five,  in  a 
black  silk  dress  and  a  cap  with  ribbons. 

"  It  will  be  over,  miss,  before  ever  you  know 
it.  They're  coming  now,"  she  said,  whisking  brisk- 
ly about  the  room,  setting  chairs  straight  and  pull- 
ing up  a  window  shade.  "  We  may  as  well  make 
the  most  of  the  light  while  we  can  get  it,"  she 
added.  "  It  will  soon  be  blacker  than  night  here 
after  your  pa's  been  done." 

"  Done  to  death,"  thought  Paula,  who  felt  as  if 
she  had  signed  her  father's  death  warrant. 

Dr.  Krupp's  voice  was  heard  in  the  hall,  loud 
and  angry.  He  was  scolding  some  one. 

"  Dr.  Krupp  seems  to  have  a  very  bad  disposi- 


40  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

tion,"  said  Paula.  She  rather  enjoyed  making  this 
remark. 

"He's  violent,  yes,"  said  the  matron,  imper- 
sonally. "  One  may  say  very.  He's  an  autocrat. 
Sometimes  it's  a  crease  in  the  hearth-rug,  a  pin  on 
the  floor,  and  he's  oil  like  that,  quite  terrible.  But 
you  get  used  to  it.  I  don't  mind  him,  and  then 
he's  got  genius.  It's  in  his  fingers,"  and  the  matron 
turned  up  one  of  her  hands  and  moved  her  fingers 
about.  "  He's  kind  to  the  poor,  too." 

"I  suppose  he's  a  Communist,"  said  Paula,  a 
trifle  aggressively,  "and  thinks  all  decent  people, 
clean  people,  ought  to  be  done  away  with." 

Just  then  five  gentlemen  filed  into  the  apart- 
ment, Dr.  Krupp,  his  assistant,  and  three  students. 

"  Now,  my  young  lady,"  said  the  terrible  man, 
"you  just  step  back  for  a  few  moments.  Mrs. 
Nott  "—Mrs.  Nott  was  the  matron — "  stay  by  Miss 
Sorchan." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Paula,  coldly, "  I  require  no  sup- 
port." 

"  Now,  then,  sir — " 

After  a  moment  Paula  heard  her  father  cry  out. 
"  Oh,  the  pressure !  the  pressure  !  "  Then  there 
was  a  pause,  and  then  again,  "Aie!  Aie  !  Doctor, 
let  me  up — let  me  up !  Ugh  !  Ugh  !  What  a  ter- 
rible pressure !  " 

"  Yes,  but  no   pain,"  said  one  of  the  students 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  41 

oracularly,  "  thanks  to  the  cocaine.  It  used  to  be 
quite  dreadful." 

"  How  many  fingers  do  you  see  now  with  the 
left  eye  ?  "  cried  Dr.  Krupp. 

"  Three." 

"And  now?" 

"  One." 

"And  now?" 

"  Five." 

"Miss  Sorchan,"  said  the  oculist  somewhat 
dramatically,  "your  father  has  just  been  success- 
fully operated  upon  for  cataract.  Come  and  em- 
brace him." 

Paula  fell  over  the  bald  spot,  upon  which  she 
fastened  her  lips,  anointing  it  copiously  with  a  flood 
of  fast  falling  tears. 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  the  cataract;  Miss  ? " 
said  the  assistant  with  an  insinuating  intonation. 
"  It  is  an  uncommonly  perfect  one.  If  so,  just  step 
up  to  the  window,  please,  and  I'll  show  it  to  you." 

He  thought  Paula  pretty  and  considered  it  the 
distinguishing  trait  of  a  man  of  the  world  never  to 
neglect  his  chances  with  the  fair  sex. 

"  No,"  said  Paula,  shuddering  and  not  look- 
ing up. 

He  bit  his  blond  mustache  and  came  to  the  con- 
clusion she  was  too  dark  for  his  taste. 

The    joyful  news    was    carried    down  to  Mrs. 


42  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

Charles  Sorchan,  Paula's  aunt,  the  widow  of  her 
father's  only  brother,  and  Honora,  and  Mrs.  Sor- 
chan's  French  maid,  who  were  holding  a  whispered 
conclave  in  the  waiting-room  below.  Telegrams 
were  dispatched  to  one  or  two  anxious  friends.  In 
the  evening  Paula  received  a  note  and  a  gift  of 
roses  and  lilies  from  Norwood.  He  had  been  more 
than  kind  to  her  all  through  this,  her  first  great 
trouble,  and  during  her  three  weeks'  sojourn  at  the 
hospital  in  darkness  and  gloom  he  sent  her  almost 
daily  splendid  flowers  and  cheering  missives.  His 
letters  were  of  the  kind  which  women  keep,  first  in 
the  breast  of  their  gown,  then  in  their  pocket, 
finally  in  a  desk— safe.  Why  ?  What  makes  the 
value  of  some  person's  epistolary  communications 
so  great,  so  much  greater  than  that  of  others  as 
painstaking  and  as  kindly  ?  Is  it  a  mysterious  gift 
of  sympathy  or  only  a  trick  of  taste  ?  Certain  it  is 
that  the  mere  sight  of  one  envelope  causes  us  a 
pleasurable  exhilaration ;  another,  a  leaden  sense 
of  weariness. 

Paula  was  very  grateful  for  the  letters  and  the 
flowers.  Her  aunt  Amy,  too,  was  extremely  de- 
voted to  her.  She — Mrs.  Sorclian — was  a  wealthy, 
childless  widow,  a  native  of  Boston.  She  inhabited 
a  fine  mansion  in  a  quiet,  tree-shaded  square.  She 
went  little  into  society  and  was  engrossed  in  her 
books  and  a  few  good  works.  She  was,  however,  a 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  43 

clever,  shrewd,  breezy  person,  not  devoid  of  a  cer- 
tain worldliness  and  insight.  She  had  deplored  her 
brother-in-law's  supineness  in  not  presenting  Paula 
in  society,  and  had  on  one  or  two  occasions  offered 
her  services.  But  her  expostulations  and  sugges- 
tions had  been  received  with  indifference.  Her 
brother-in-law  had  always  replied  vaguely  that 
Paula  was  happy.  It  was  she  who  thought  that  he 
might  better  have  married  again. 

After  the  three  weeks  it  was  found  that  the 
second  operation  could  not  yet  take  place.  There 
seemed  to  be  some  inflammation.  It  never  took 
place. 

"  Your  father  grows  etiolated  by  the  long  con- 
finement," said  the  house  physician  one  morning. 
"It's  queer,  too.  I've  talked  it  over  with  Dr. 
Krupp  and  his  nurse.  We  think  he  had  better  be 
driven  home.  The  change  of  air  will  do  the  system 
good,  revive  him  and  the  eye  will  be  benefited.  He 
will  not  need  the  hospital  doctors  for  a  week  or 
two.  His  own  family  physician  from  the  Heights 
can  attend  to  him." 

So  they  went  home  again,  and  Paula  did  not  say 
adieu  to  Dr.  Krupp.  She  had  never  spoken  to  him 
since  the  day  he  had  been  so  rough  with  her,  merely 
exchanging  with  him  such  necessary  words  as  his 
directions  necessitated.  Like  all  strong,  sincere 
people  Paula  was  not  quick  to  forgive. 


4A  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

Mr.  Sorchan  looked  like  a  sick  giant  lying  on 
his  bed  in  his  own  room,  with  the  sheet  drawn  over 
his  body  and  the  bandage  across  his  brow.  He  was 
ill  now  in  other  ways.  He  could  not  digest.  Ac- 
customed to  an  active  life  of  brain  and  nerve,  the 
enforced  confinement  was  killing  him.  He  was 
sometimes  irritable,  although  he  had  borne  the 
operation  and  the  hospital  with  an  immense  pa- 
tience. Like  all  men  who  write  a  great  deal  and 
late  into  the  night,  he  had  formed  a  habit  for  stimu- 
lating the  mind.  He  was  an  enormous  consumer  of 
tea.  "That's  the  best  tipple,"  he  used  to  say.  It 
acted  upon  him  like  an  inspiration.  He  was  very 
cross  one  evening  because  the  male  nurse  had  made 
a  mistake  and  given  him  of  the  wrong  brand. 
There  was  a  particular  box  labeled  "  Papa's  Tea " 
by  Paula,  which  was  kept  for  his  special  use.  It 
had  a  highly  aromatic  flavor,  which  other  people 
usually  disliked.  Paula  heard  his  complaints  and 
was  in  despair.  She  reproved  the  carelessness  of 
the  domestics,  flew  down  herself  to  the  kitchen, 
made  some  of  the  right  tea,  and  brought  it  up  with 
a  flushed  face  to  her  father's  bedside.  He  turned 
upon  his  side,  his  free  eye  upon  her,  and  followed 
her  every  movement  with  a  look  of  grateful  affec- 
tion which  lingered  with  her  through  life.  Such 
things  are  indelible. 

"  Thank  you,  my  little  girl,  thank  you.     You 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  45 

are  very  kind  to  your  poor  papa,"  lie  said,  and  lie 
approached  his  parched  lips  to  the  cu]^  she  held, 
while  supporting  him  in  her  strong,  young  arms. 

"  It  tastes  like  nectar  to  me,"  and  he  smiled  at 
her.  Ah,  that  last  smile  !  lie  expired  in  the  night 
very  suddenly.  At  least  so  every  one  said. 

The  most  gradual,  slow  and  insidious  things 
have  their  shock,  the  ultimate. 

Many  distinguished  persons  attended  the  funeral. 
The  press  rose  up  as  with  one  voice  to  do  him 
honor.  Dr.  Krupp  rarely  read  the  papers  ;  he  was 
too  busy.  Then  they  always  -infuriated  him. 
Hearing  nothing  from  his  patient  he  concluded  he 
was  doing  well.  One  day,  however,  as  he  was  out 
driving  he  pushed  out  as  far  as  the  house  by  the 
river,  just  to  see  how  the  eye  was  progressing. 
Roxy  opened  the  door  for  him. 

"Mr.  Sorchan?"he  asked. 

"  The  Lord  bless  us  !  "  said  Eoxy,  blanching 
through  her  black  skin. 

"  Why—  what  ?  "  said  Dr.  Krupp,  a  trifle  agi- 
tated. 

""Why,  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  us,  sir.  The 
master  was  buried  this  day  week." 

With   an  •  ejaculation   he  hurried    back   to   his 


"Here,"  he  said,  turning  and  fumbling  in  his 
vest   pocket  for  his  card,  "  give  this  to  Miss  Sor- 


46  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

clian :  tell  her,  tell  her  " —    But  he  could  not  find  a 
word,  and  drove  away. 

It  was,  nevertheless,  entered  into  the  books  that 
on  May  27,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  18 — ,  Paul  Sor- 
chan,  scientist,  was  successfully  operated  upon  for 
cataract  by  Hermann  Egbert  Krupp,  M.  D. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PAULA'S  grief  was  deep,  not  loud.  She  was  one 
of  those  rare  women  who  have  the  modestj  of  suffer- 
ing. Refinement,  high-breeding,  dignity,  are  prob- 
ably never  better  proved  than  in  bereavement.  A 
vulgar  soul  can  not  afford  to  be  sorrowful  any  more 
than  it  can  afford  to  be  merry.  I  mean  that  in  both 
emotions  its  inherent  vulgarity  is  betrayed.  It  is 
petty,  selfish,  exclamatory,  grotesque. 

"  She  is  strangely  sustained,"  said  Mrs.  Charles 
Sorchan,  sitting  one  afternoon  on  the  portico  with 
Norwood,  a  few  weeks  later,  and  speaking  of  her 
niece. 

Mr.  Sorchan  had  made  his  will  before  he  had  en- 
tered Dr.  Krupp's  hospital.  Norwood  was  execu- 
tor of  the  estate.  The  house  was  Paula's,  and  then 
her  mother's  legacy  had  rolled  up.  The  patent  too 
had  brought  its  meed  of  ready  money,  so  Mr.  Sor- 
chan had  left  a  very  nice  little  fortune ;  Paula  would 
be  well  off.  Nothing  as  to  her  future  was  as  yet 
decided.  She  would  probably  live  with  her  aunt. 


48  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

She  had  no  near  blood  relatives.  At  present  her 
aunt  had  moved  out  to  the  Riverside. 

"  She's  wonderfully  sustained." 

Norwood  thought  so  too. 

"  Early  youth,"  he  said  somewhat  sententiously, 
"  is  elastic." 

He  had  been  surprised  at  the  girl's  absolute 
composure.  It  was  hardly  natural.  She  came  out 
now  on  the  porch,  looking  very  tall  in  her  black 
gown.  She  shook  hands  with  him  and  sat  down 
near  him.  Her  aunt  made  an  excuse  and  went 
into  the  house.  Paula  expressed  herself  as  being 
tired. 

"  I  have  just  been  in  town,"  she  said,  "  and  feel 
quite  worn  out."  She  was  very  pale. 

"  Let  me  ring  for  some  tea  for  you,  Miss  Sor- 
chan,"  said  Norwood,  springing  up.  "  It  will  rest 
and  refresh  you." 

When  the  tea  was  brought  Paula  offered  him  a 
cup,  and,  helping  herself,  began  to  turn  the  spoon 
about  listlessly.  She  raised  it  to  her  lips,  but  sud- 
denly cried  out  as  if  something  had  stung  her,  and 
violently  thrusting  the  cup  away,  exclaimed,  "  It's 
papa's  tea !  It's  papa's  tea  !  How  dare  they  touch 
it !  "  and  ran  into  the  house. 

He  followed  her  in  time  to  find  her  prostrate 
upon  the  faded  yellow  sofa  in  the  drawing-room, 
her  whole  body  convulsed  and  racked  by  sobs, 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  49 

which  she  tried  in  vain  to  stifle,  forcing  her  hand- 
kerchief upon  her  lips. 

"He  said  ...  He  said,  'My  little  daughter' 
...  He  said  .  .  .  '  It  is  like  nectar,'  and  he  turned 
the  eye,  the  well  one  upon  me  ...  the  other ".  .  . 
and  the  sofa  shook  with  her  agony. 

Very  pale  himself,  Norwood  leaned  over  her, 
passing  one  arm  about  her  shoulders  and  half  sup- 
porting her  close  to  his  breast. 

"There,  there,  stop!  There— Miss  Sorchan— 
Paula — dear  one,"  and  he  soothed  her  gently.  He 
was  profoundly  moved. 

She  looked  so  young,  so  lonely,  so  forlorn.  She 
turned  and  gazed  up  into  his  kind  eyes. 

"He  liked  the  tea  I  made,"  she  went  on. 
"  They  had  made  a  mistake :  it  was  abominable. 
Oh  !  He  ought  to  have  had  everything  he  wanted. 
He  did,  didn't  he,  Mr.  Norwood."  She  clutched 
his  hand  suddenly.  "  Say  that  he  had  everything, 
that  he  was  not  neglected — forgotten." 

Her  mouth  pitifully  quivering,  her  soulful  eyes 
burned  into  him.  A  mist  came  into  his  own. 

"  He  had  everything ;  you  were  more  than  de- 
voted to  him,"  said  the  young  man  solemnly,  hold- 
ing the  girl's  hand. 

By  and  by  when  the  paroxysm  had  passed  he 
stooped  and  kissed  her  half-open  mouth,  drinking 

as  he  did  so  of  her  salt  tears. 
4 


50  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"Paula,"  lie  whispered,  "your  father  trusted 
me ;  I  think  he  liked  me.  I,  too,  am  alone.  Will 
you  love  me  a  little  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  faltered. 

Thus  Paula's  future  was  decided,  and  they  were 
married  the  next  Autumn. 

Notwithstanding  her  recent  mourning,  Paula 
wore  a  veil  and  a  very  smart  satin  gown  and  orange 
blossoms  in  her  dark  hair,  and  her  aunt  wore  gray 
velvet  and  white  lace  and  diamonds.  The  ladies 
had  made  a  short  trip  to  Paris  during  the  Summer, 
where  some  of  this  bravery  had  been  chosen,  and  it 
had  been  decided  to  make  things  as  cheerful  as  pos- 
sible. Some  of  the  children  who  used  to  play  with 
her  in  the  old  days  under  the  pear  trees,  now 
grown  into  young  women,  were  bidden  to  the  chapel 
on  the  heights  and  then  were  driven  back  to  the 
stately  house  which  had  also  been  dressed  for  the 
occasion  and  transformed  into  a  very  bower  of 
roses. 

"  I  don't  call  this  a  house  at  all,"  said  a  little 
child  who  was  present ;  "  I  call  it  a  garden." 

The  service  had  seemed  very  short  to  Norwood, 
whom  nevertheless  it  had  sentimentally  impressed, 
lie  promised  fervently  before  an  altar  which  meant 
nothing  to  him,  and  before  a  God  he  did  not  believe 
in — a  God  whom  he  and  Mr.  Sorchan  had  decided 
was  a  very  disagreeable  person — to  comfort  and 


A   PURITAN   PAGAN.  51 

keep  this  woman  and  to  accord  her  absolute  fidelity 
until  one  of  them  should  die.  A  band  of  music 
hailed  their  return  with  the  wedding  march  in  the 
hall. 

Later,  as  there  were  quite  a  number  of  young 
people,  a  Sir  Eoger  de  Coverly  was  formed,  Paula 
and  Norwood  leading.  All  admitted  that  she  had 
never  looked  better  than  on  this  day,  and  that  she 
made  an  interesting  bride.  Norwood's  mother 
thought  her  qnite  charming  and  kissed  her  a  great 
many  times.  She  had  brought  her  husband  who, 
although  extremely  bored,  was  very  civil,  and  the 
young  brothers  and  sisters,  full  of  curiosity  and  ex- 
citement. She  herself  was  a  blooming  woman  in 
early  middle  life.  As  they  danced  up  and  down 
the  room  Paula  laughingly  holding  back  her  veil, 
the  resemblance  between  herself  and  Norwood, 
which  Mr.  Sorchan  had  noticed,  was  commented 
upon  by  several  of  the  guests.  Norwood's  mother 
was  struck  with  it,  and  the  children  exclaimed  : 
"  The  living  image !  "  with  much  delight  and  glee 
at  this  wonderful  discovery. 

"  Are  you  alike  in  disposition,  too  ? "  asked  the 
bridegroom's  mamma,  looking  smilingly  from  one 
to  the  other. 

"  "We  are  both  rather  reserved,  perhaps,"  he  said. 

"  Dear  Paula,"  said  the  mother,  and  again  kissed 
her  daughter-in-law. 


52  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

Yes,  she  thought  her  charming,  and  it  was  also 
pleasant  that  there  was  an  income.  Even  the  Puri- 
tan matron  has  no  dislike  to  these  solid  assurances. 

Norwood's  first  request  of  his  wife  after  their 
marriage  was  that  he  should  be  permitted  to  pur- 
chase the  house  from  her.  "  I  prefer,"  he  said, 
"  that  our  home  should  be  mine.  We  will  always 
keep  it,  for  I  like  the  place." 

"  Why,  is  it  not  all  the  same  ? "  she  asked 
naively. 

He  pressed  her  fingers.  "  Yield  to  me,  dearest, 
in  this,"  he  said.  So  she  signed  the  deed  conveying 
the  homestead  to  her  husband.  He  invested  double 
its  worth  for  her  in  railroad  shares  which  yielded 
handsome  dividends.  They  concluded  to  make  it 
their  permanent  residence. 

"  Only  fancy,  Nelly,"  said  a  young  girl,  driving 
home  from  the  wedding  with  her  parents  and  her 
cousin — "  only  fancy  little  Paula  Sorchan  being 
married  before  any  of  us !  " 

"  And  to  such  a  man ! "   said  the  cousin. 

"  Yes,  he's  quite  fascinating." 

"  Perfectly  maddening ! " 

"  Silly  girls,"  said  the  mother. 

"  He's  a  very  shrewd  fellow,"  said  Prof.  Joyce, 
the  father  of  the  first  girl,  and  one  of  the  faculty  of 
a  great  university.  "  He'll  make  his  fortune  before 
he  gets  through." 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  53 

"  Fancy ! "  said  Mrs.  Joyce. 

"  He  has  a  reputation  and  his  small  heap  already, 
I  imagine,"  said  the  Professor.  "He  made  his 
mark  on  that  Kell  telephone  case." 

"  You  don't  say  so !  To  be  sure  I've  seen  in 
the  papers  that  he  was  a  fine  speaker." 

"  He's  fascinating,"  repeated  Nelly. 

"How  do  you  think  Paula  looked?"  asked  the 
other  girl,  dubiously. 

"  Eather  well,"  said  Nelly.  "  II ow  tall  she  is ! 
She's  really  fine  looking  now,  has  quite  an  air  and 
looks  brighter,  more  like  other  people.  She  used 
to  be  so  serious,  so  old  fashioned.  It's  very  funny. 
I  think  they  look  alike." 

"  So  they  do ;  but  he's  much  the  better-looking." 

"  Oh,  much." 

"  Paula  must  be  well  off,"  said  the  mother. 

"  Sorchan's  been  a  public  benefactor,"  said  the 
Professor.  "  He  was  a  great  man.  It  would  be  a 
disgrace  if  any  child  of  his  ever  came  to  want." 

"  I  saw  no  evidence  of  impending  destitution 
to-day,"  said  Mrs.  Joyce,  laughing.  "  It  was  quite 
a  swell  affair." 

"  Did  you  really  think  so  ?  They  struck  me  as 
rather  a  queer  lot  of  people,"  said  Nelly,  who  was 
the  fashionable  cousin  of  these  unfashionable  people 
whom  she  delighted  to  torment  by  such  comments. 


54  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

She  had  gone  up  to  this  "  queer "  wedding,  having 
known  Paula  formerly,  out  of  curiosity,  with  the 
amiable  and  commendable  intention  of  ridiculing 
everything.  But  Norwood  and  his  mother  and 
Mrs.  Charles  Sorchan's  diamonds,  and  even  Paula 
herself,  had,  on  the  whole,  impressed  her,  and  she 
had  found  no  great  scope  for  her  favorite  pastime 
of  depreciation. 

"  Some  of  the  most  brilliant  talent  of  the  coun- 
try was  there,  Miss  Nelly,"  said  the  Professor,  with 
a  grim  smile. 

"  Oh,  uncle  !  you  know  perfectly  well  what  I 
mean.  Paula  never  did  go  into  the  right  set." 

"  I  don't  think  she  ever  went  into  any  set,"  said 
the  other  girl,  who  was  fully  aware  that  her  own 
coterie  was,  in  Nelly's  eyes,  deplorably  undesirable, 
composed  largely  of  "  detrimentals  "  and  "  frumps." 

"She's  married  well,  nevertheless,"  said  Mrs. 
Joyce,  with  a  sigh,  "and  without  any  parties  or 
low-necked  gowns  or  bother.  I  don't  see,"  and  she 
glanced  a  trifle  maliciously  at  her  niece,  "  that  the 
girls  who  drag  out  year  in  and  year  out  and  wear 
themselves  and  their  mothers  to  the  bone,  do  much 
better." 

This  home  thrust  was  efficacious,  for  Miss  Nelly 
had  been  "  out "  four  seasons.  The  historic  worm 
had  turned  and  bitten.  The  subject  was  allowed  to 
drop. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

So  these  young  people  started  hand  in  hand  on 
their  voyage.  They  were  to  meet  such  tempests, 
to  be  tossed  on  such  waves  of  woe,  to  be  cast  away 
on  such  dreadful  reefs,  that  my  heart  fails  me  and 
my  hand  falters  at  the  thought  of  all  I  have  to 
record.  Yet  it  is  a  true  story  I  am  telling,  and  its 
truth  must  commend  it  to  those  who  shrink  faint- 
hearted at  a  picture  of  calamity. 

Girlhood  is  generally  called  a  season  of  romance 
and  illusion ;  but  I  doubt  if  any  girl  past  her  ma- 
turity entertains  the  wild,  crude  ideas  of  marriage 
that  does  the  average  bachelor  of  thirty  or  forty. 
It  is  probable,  to  be  sure,  that  he  has  assisted  at  a 
thousand  marriage  shipwrecks,  if  he  has  not  himself 
hastened  them;  that  he  has  seen,  heard,  and  read 
endless  stories  of  the  risks  and  ennuis  of  the  con- 
nubial condition,  nay,  he  has  probably  himself  made 
feeble  jokes  at  the  expense  of  the  benedicts  of  the 
community  and  laughed  with  the  rest  at  the  mis- 
fortunes and  follies  of  Imsbands  in  general.  Let 


56  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

others,  however,  but  allude  to  his  own  possible 
nuptials  and  his  face  becomes  transformed  into  an 
imbecile  ingenuousness,  his  head  wags  from  side  to 
side  mysteriously,  and  he  will  assure  you  that  "  with 
him "  all  these  gloomy  aspects  of  the  matrimonial 
venture  shall  presently  vanish. 

"  In  my  case,"  he  says,  "  it  will  be  different." 

He  knows ;  she  will  know ;  they  will  know. 
"Bah!  Idiots!" 

If  he  could  only  have  warned  these  broken  spars 
wherein  their  danger  lay !  Too  late !  They  failed 
to  consult  him.  First  of  all  Jie  has  respect  for  an 
oath,  for  plighted  faith.  Other  men,  "the  fools," 
who  don't  understand  the  delicacy,  the  purity  of 
women.  .  .  .  Again  the  smile,  the  triumphant 
movement  of  the  head. 

Probably  this  unmarried  belief  in  himself  is 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  edifying  spectacles 
this  llase  old  world  still  presents  to  us.  No  girl, 
however  innocent  and  ignorant,  ever  feels  quite  as 
secure.  A  bachelor  once  said  to  me :  "  I  have  never 
seen  a  married  couple  look  at  each  other  as  if  they 
even  remembered  anything  pleasant."  I  do  not 
know  to  what  pleasant  things  he  referred,  but  I  do 
know  that  he  was  fully  persuaded  that  if  he  could 
have  wedded  the  woman  he  adored — as  she  was  the 
wife  of  another  they  could  not  very  well  be  united 
at  that  moment — they  would  have  looked  at  each 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  57 

other  often,  within  the  proper  focus  and  with  a 
suitable  emphasis,  for  the  rest  of  their  natural  lives. 

It  is  therefore  possible,  nay,  probable,  that  Nor- 
wood expected  more  of  marriage  than  did  Paula. 
"Will  it  be  very  ungallant  to  the  latter  if  I  say  that 
he  was  just  a  little  disappointed  ? 

It  will  be  remembered  that  he  had  concluded 
that  she  would  be  imbued  with  a  delightful  mixture 
of  Southern  fire  and  of  New  England  common 
eense.  At  close  quarters,  however,  the  fire  was 
found  to  burn  a  trifle  pale,  and  at  the  best  waver- 
ingly  and  uncertainly,  while  the  common  sense  was 
not  quite  as  accentuated  as  he  could  have  desired. 
In  fact,  she  often  seemed  to  him  childishly  sensitive 
and  proud.  After  months,  even  years,  of  marriage, 
he  felt  as  if  he  did  not  know  her  intimately.  There 
was  something  in  her  that  evaded  him,  something 
elusive.  This  might  have  been  pleasantly  piquant 
if  it  had  not  somewhat  wounded  his  vanity.  She 
actually  made  him  feel  not  absolutely  sure  of  him- 
self. To  sit  opposite  a  young  creature  whose  large- 
eyed  silences  convey  the  suggestion  that  she  is 
judging  one  has  its  drawbacks.  She  rarely  flattered 
him,  it  must  be  admitted,  and  he  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  a  good  deal  of  flattery  from  her  sex.  He 
was  too  much  occupied,  and  too  seriously,  to  miss 
it  very  much.  It  is  only  idlers  to  whom  flattery 
becomes  of  paramount  importance.  When  one 


58  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

knows  one  is  useless  it  is  pleasant  to  be  constantly 
reassured  as  to  one's  value.  Perhaps  he  was  too 
much  occupied  to  think  deeply  enough  of  affairs  of 
this  sort.  Nevertheless  he  did  wish  his  wife  was 
more  demonstrative.  He  remembered  the  seal  of 
their  engagement,  plighted  in  tears,  and  knew  that 
her  feelings  were  deep ;  but,  after  all,  lighter  ones 
more  freely  expressed  did  better  for  every-day  pur- 
poses— particularly  for  a  busy  man.  Of  course  one 
did  not  lose  one's  father  more  than  once,  and  yet 
one  might  show  up  a  trifle  more  to  a  fellow.  He 
did  not  realize — how  could  he? — that  Paula  was 
still  dazed,  astonished,  in  dreamland,  not  yet  awake, 
not  yet  fully  a  woman. 

Pier  bringing  up  had  been  peculiar.  She  was 
unusually  unsophisticated.  Marriage,  this  new 
strange  life,  had  been  terrible  to  her,  though  sweet; 
but  to  him  she  said  nothing.  It  is  probable  that 
she,  too,  thought  him  cold,  and  again  too  warm. 
It  was  unfortunate  that  they  were  both  naturally, 
as  he  had  himself  said,  reserved.  It  would  have 
been  much  better  for  Paula  to  have  married  a  man 
who  expressed  more  than  he  felt,  charmed  her 
poetic  temperament  with  the  floods  of  his  eloquence, 
carried  her  off  her  feet.  But  such  eloquence  as 
Norwood  possessed  he  reserved  for  the  court-room. 
One  must  harbor  one's  forces.  Or,  again,  perhaps 
it  would  have  been  as  well  for  her  to  wed  a  jolly, 


A  PURITAN   PAGAN.  59 

good-natured  fellow  who  would'  have  met  her  seri- 
ousness with  light  caresses  and  healthful  laughter. 
A  lady  once  in  my  presence  aske.d  another,  who  had 
several  step-daughters  nearly  her  own  age,  if  she  did 
not  find  the  situation  extremely  difficult,  and  how 
it  was  that  she  "  got  on  "  so  smoothly.  It  required, 
no  doubt,  special  gifts  and  graoes,  great  diplomacy, 
astuteness,  tact. 

"  Oh  no,"  was  the  quiet  answer.  "  I  take  them 
simply." 

I  was  struck,  I  remember,  with  the  wisdom  of 
the  reply.  It  is  possible  that  it  would  have  been 
wiser  for  Paula  and  Norwood  to  have  taken  each 
other  more  "  simply,"  but  simplicity  is  not  an 
American  virtue.  It  was  a  strange  fact  that  his 
letters  had  always  said  more  to  her  than  his  words. 
She  treasured  those  she  had  received  from  him  and 
liked  to  read  them  over. 

He  now  had  his  offices  in  the  city,  whither  he 
went  of  a  morning,  returning  to  dine  at  home.  His 
hours  of  absence  were  very  prolonged.  His  wife 
passed  them  alone. 

One  day  a  trifling  incident  occurred  which  left 
upon  Norwood's  mind  an  unpleasant  memory.  He 
never  succeeded  in  entirely  effacing  it  The  wounds 
to  our  vanity  survive  those  to  our  affections.  As 
he  entered  his  gate  he  heard  Sophia  call  out  to 
Roxy,  whose  pink  calico  was  visible  fluttering  in 


60  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

the  adjacent  shrubbery :  "  Bless  you'  heart !  What 
you  cavoorting  so  fo'  with  head  on  th'  earth  and 
tail  in  th'  element  I " 

"  Ise  picking  a  posy  for  Miss  Paul,"  cried 
Roxy. 

It  must  be  conceded  a  caudal  appendage  would 
have  been  a  very  fitting  completion  to  Roxy's  pe- 
culiar style  of  beauty. 

"  Here,  I'll  help  you,"  said  Norwood. 

Several  white  domestics  had  been  added  to  the 
establishment,  and  there  were  now  horses  and  a 
brougham  and  a  T  cart  in  the  stable,  but  Roxy  and 
Sophia  had  been  kept,  as  well  as  Honora,  who  had 
been  nurse  to  Paula's  mother  and  could  not  be  dis- 
carded. 

Norwood  took  the  posy  from  the  heated  maid, 
added  a  few  flowers  he  pulled  himself,  and  went  to 
meet  Paula,  who  the  servants  told  him  was  walking 
in  the  garden.  He  found  her  tying  up  her  rose- 
bushes— she  still  liked  to  work  among  the  flower- 
beds. Gyp  was  sitting  on  his  haunches,  with  his 
head  on  one  side,  one  ear  up  and  one  hanging  down, 
watching  her.  As  Norwood  came  up  she  had  her 
back  to  him.  With  a  heart  overflowing  with  an 
unusual  warmth  he  came  on  tiptoe  behind  her, 
threw  his  arms  quickly  about  her,  turned  her 
around  rapidly,  and  began  to  cover  her  eyes  and 
her  mouth  with  kisses.  He  held  her  very  tightly 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  61 

close  against  him  in  a  tenderness  that  was  almost 
violent.  She  was  so  amazed  that  she  was  passive  ; 
but  in  a  moment  she  began  to  struggle  to  free  her- 
self. The  more  she  did  so  the  tighter  he  held  her 
in  his  grasp.  Then,  suddenly  stamping  her  foot 
angrily,  she  doubled  up  her  hand  and  struck  him 
upon  the  breast. 

"  Stop  1 "  she  cried.     "  I  hate  it." 

He  released  her  instantly.  She  stood  in  front 
of  him  with  flaming  cheeks,  trembling. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  coldly,  hurt  be- 
yond measure. 

To  Paula  this  sudden,  inexplicable  rush  of  af- 
fection— was  it  affection? — was  offensive.  Had  it 
been  won  to  her  by  a  look,  a  word  of  her  own,  or 
from  her  by  a  gentle  caress,  she  would,  oh,  how 
gladly,  how  willingly,  have  nestled  against  his  heart ! 
But  taken  unawares,  when  her  senses  were  asleep, 
forced  into  a  proximity  which  killed  all  magnetism, 
devoured  with  kisses  which  seemed  almost  brutal, 
she  was  filled  with  a  sudden  revolt  and  anger  against 
the  man  who  took  as  a  right  what  he  should  have 
craved  as  a  boon. 

Norwood  was  simply  stupid.  He  really  knew 
women  hardly  at  all.  He  had  found  her  in  one  of 
those  moods  when  a  woman  must  be  either  left 
alone  entirely  or  cajoled  and  petted  into  feeling. 
He  misunderstood.  Many  men  have  before,  and 


62  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

the  unerring  instinct  which  a  great  love  gives  was 
not  his.  The  fact  was  he  did  not  entirely  love  her, 
and  the  girl  dimly,  vaguely  felt  the  want,  wonder- 
ing. He  had  never  loved,  nor  her,  nor  another. 
Love  was  to  be  taught  him  by  a  rude  master.  lie 
had  married  her  because  she  was  interesting,  pict- 
uresque, clever.  It  would  be  delicious,  he  had 
thought,  to  open  all  of  life  to  her,  all  of  its  un- 
tasted  experiences,  but  somehow  the  process  seemed 
to  be  growing  a  little  gray.  On  this  particular  oc- 
casion it  would  have  been  pardonable  for  Paula  to 
act  a  part,  nay  advisable.  A  simulation  of  feeling 
might  have  been  wise  ;  in  lovers  such  perfidies  may 
be  excused.  No  one  likes  to  be  snubbed,  particu- 
larly in  an  elan  of  sentiment.  Had  she  been  older, 
more  wary,  anxious  to  fix  her  husband,  to  win  a 
love  which  was  not  quite  fully  hers,  but  which  was 
worth  the  having,  she  would  have  met  his  advances 
differently.  But  the  sincerity  of  early  youth,  while 
admirable,  is  apt  to  be  a  little  ponderous.  It  ac- 
cepts no  conditions  and  offers  none.  It  is  rarely 
successful  in  what  it  aims  at,  if,  indeed,  it  has  any 
aims. 

Paula  was  floundering.  She  did  not  know  what 
she  desired,  or  thought  she  did  not,  which  is  the 
same  thing.  She  desired  to  be  adored ;  all  young 
things  do.  This  irrelevant,  vehement  demonstra- 
tion in  the  garden — what  was  that  ?  I  regret  to  say 


A   PURITAN  PAGAN.  63 

that  Paula  waited  until  her  husband  had  reached 
the  landing  of  the  upper  hall  that  evening  to  slam 
her  door  within  two  feet  of  his  nose  and  shoot  a 
harsh  bolt.  At  dinner  he  had  manfully,  as  he 
thought,  resisted  her  shy  efforts  at  conciliation — 
she  must  be  taught  a  lesson — and  possibly  this  was 
her  revenge.  Now  the  click  of  bars  and  bolts  is, 
probably,  to  a  man  of  sense  and  refinement  prefer- 
able to  a  martyred  acceptance  of  distasteful  affec- 
tion. But  there  is  everything  in  the  way  things  are 
done.  A  door  may  be  closed  playfully,  coquettish- 
ly,  charmingly,  or — harshly  and  uncompromisingly. 
The  latter  was  Paula's  method  to-night.  Of  course 
it  blew  over — such  things  must  blow  over,  be  lived 
down  and  smothered.  But  the  impression  left  on 
them  both  was  unpleasant,  and  Norwood's  attitude 
became  more  reserved  than  before.  He  did  not 
seek  his  young  wife's  confidence.  As  I  have  said, 
he  was  stupid.  It  is  the  custom  to  speak  of  lovers 
as  dissemblers.  But  the  fact  remains  that  it  is 
marriage  which  generally  engenders  dissimulation. 
Two  shy  and  haughty  natures,  beating  in  its  net, 
find,  sometimes,  no  other  loophole  of  escape,  and 
the  woman,  who  is  usually  the  more  inexperienced, 
the  more  timid  and  the  more  sensitive,  earlier  cons 
the  fatal  lesson.  It  is  so  easy  to  flout  a  lover — nay, 
so  pleasant — but  a  husband !  He  who  must  be  met 
again  in  an  hour,  and  with  a  smile,  for  appearance's 


64  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

sake,  for  the  servants !  Marriage  has  this  immedi- 
ate future  to  face,  from  which  escape  is  difficult,  or 
again  the  more  distant,  whose  gained  liberties  must 
mean  disaster. 

In  his  career,  however,  Norwood  was  not  at  all 
stupid.  Case  upon  case  came  up  for  him  now. 
He  was  early  and  late  in  the  courts.  Sometimes  he 
had  to  leave  hurriedly  for  Washington,  for  Albany, 
for  the  West.  The  world,  which  had  noted  the 
brilliant  young  lawyer,  now  began  to  talk  about 
him,  to  extol  and  laud  his  talents.  People  said: 
"  He  married  Paul  Sorchan's  only  daughter ;  they 
live  in  the  country — no,  not  in  the  country  exactly, 
in  the  suburbs,  just  where  it  is  so  inconvenient  to 
get  at  them." 

Sometimes  they  dined  in  town  with  quiet 
friends ;  sometimes  they  went  to  the  play ;  but 
Paula  had  never  known  the  life  of  the  great  world ; 
she  did  not  crave  it,  nay,  she  shrank  from  it,  and 
Norwood  did  as  his  wife  did.  Although  he  had 
seen  a  good  deal  of  society,  he  had  never  been  fond 
of  it — at  least  he  was  not  fond  of  routs  and  balls. 
It  is  always  the  women  who  keep  the  social  wheel 
in  motion.  In  early  married  life  the  young  wife 
invariably  sets  the  social  pace.  Later,  sometimes, 
finding,  perhaps,  that  these  ties  of  domesticity  have 
grown  mean  and  dwarfing,  the  husband  wearies  of 
his  temple  of  comfort  and  suddenly  emancipates 


A  PURITAN   PAGAN.  65 

himself,  either  drawing  her  into  the  vortex  after 
him,  or,  entering  it  alone,  leaves  her  behind. 

As  yet,  however,  these  two  had  no  separate 
interests.  Paula  had  seen  too  little  of  men  and  of 
things  to  be  what  is  called  an  agreeable  woman, 
and  often  her  thoughts  were  overtumultuous  for 
expression,  but  her  companionship  was  intelligent 
and  appreciative.  It  must  not,  therefore,  be  sup- 
posed that  in  these  days  they  were  actively  unhap- 
py. No,  not  in  the  least.  These  flecks  and  flaws 
were  only  passing  clouds,  no  more,  like  those  which 
floated  over  the  river  at  evening,  obscuring  for  a 
moment  the  sun's  effulgence. 

These  last  Paula  liked  to  watch,  far  where  the 
water  and  the  mountains  and  the  heavens  met, 
melting  together  into  a  vaporous  trance.  She  used 
to  gaze  and  wonder  what  lay  beyond  those  mount- 
ains for  human  vision.  She  must  ask  Norwood. 
They  would  take  a  boat  some  day  and  row  up  the 
river  and  land  on  that  other  enchanted  side,  and  ex- 
plore together  those  distant  and  dreamy  shores. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THEY  had  been  married  about  three  years.  He 
came  in  one  day  to  his  office,  in  the  early  afternoon, 
flushed  with  the  triumph  of  a  brilliant  oratorical 
success  which  had  crowned  his  morning.  It  had 
won  him  an  important  lawsuit  and  the  warm  plaud- 
its of  both  admirers  and  enemies — the  first  lawyer 
of  the  city  had  crossed  the  court-room,  taken  his 
hand  and  shaken  it  in  warm  congratulations.  Nor- 
wood was  thinking  of  Paula,  who  took  a  keen  in- 
terest in  his  career,  and  of  how  pleased  she  would 
be.  On  his  desk  he  found,  among  other  letters,  one 
from  a  Western  friend,  from  whom  he  had  not 
heard  for  nearly  a  year.  It  ran  thus  : 

"  I  am  sending  you  a  new  client.  She  is  going 
out  your  way  to  look  after  her  property,  which  is 
in  litigation.  You  remember  to  have  heard  me 
speak  of  Rodney,  the  best  old  fellow  in  California. 
Everybody  knew  him.  Well,  he  and  his  wife  died 
within  eighteen  months  of  each  other  a  year  ago  or 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  g? 

more,  and  his  only  son  and  his  only  daughter  are  at 
loggerheads  about  the  property.  They  both  made 
bad  matches. 

"  Sam  was  an  honest  boy  enough  until  he  met 
the  adventuress,  who  has  ruined  him.  Mrs.  Brent- 
worth  married  a  worthless  fellow  of  that  name, 
who  proved  himself  to  be  a  sot;  he  made  her 
wretched  for  a  year,  and  Rodney  paid  him  a  round 
sum  not  to  molest  her.  She  has  since  been  living 
at  home  with  her  parents  for  several  years.  He, 
Rodney,  made  Sam  the  executor  of  his  will,  most 
unfortunately,  for  he  is  raising  the  devil,  and  has 
quarreled  with  his  sister.  I  have  advised  her  to 
come  on  and  look  after  her  interests.  Sam  has  run 
down  in  every  way,  and  he  will  try  and  cheat  her. 
There  is  a  lot  of  real  estate  in  your  city  Rodney 
once  took  for  a  debt  of  honor. 

"  Look  after  this  little  lady  a  bit.  She's  very 
sweet.  She's  like  her  mother,  who  was  Solange 
Conche,  a  French  Louisianian  belle  and  beauty. 

"  I  told  Mrs.  Brentworth  if  she  wanted  to  play 
with  lightning  and  thunder  she  had  better  apply  to 
Jupiter,  so  she  goes  straight  to  you. 

"Faithfully  yours,  dear  old  fellow, 

"  GEORGE  CLEMENT." 

A  postscript  added  that  Mrs.  Brentworth  would 
be  at  a  certain  hotel  on  a  certain  day,  and  begged 


68  A  PURITAN  PAG  AX. 

Norwood  to  call  upon  her  at  once.  The  day  was 
past.  The  lady  must  have  already  arrived.  He 
concluded  to  stop  and  see  her  or  at  least  leave  a 
card  upon  her  on  his  way  home.  It  was  a  bore,  but 
could  not  be  delayed  with  decency. 

Norwood  was  a  fastidious  man  about  his  person 
and  his  dress.  There  were  those  who  said  he  had  a 
foreign  air  on  this  account,  for  our  professional  men 
are  not  noted  for  elegance  of  detail  in  the  matter 
of  costume.  He  always  kept  a  supply  of  fresh 
linen,  cravats,  gloves,  et  cetera,  at  his  offices,  and 
had  there  every  convenience  for  making  a  fresh 
toilet.  Since  he  was  to  call  on  a  lady  instead  of 
going  straight  homeward  he  sought  his  dressing- 
rooms  and  refreshed  himself.  On  his  way  up  he 
stopped  at  a  florist's  and  found  a  gardenia,  which  he 
stuck  in  his  buttonhole.  He  felt  particularly  light- 
hearted.  It  was  partly  because  of  his  success  of  the 
morning,  partly  because  he  had  made  a  capital 
luncheon,  and  partly  because  it  was  one  of  those 
rare  days  of  early  May  when  it  is  a  joy  to  breathe 
and  every  heart-beat  is  a  pleasure,  when  the  air 
itself  seems  charged  with  promise.  He  enjoyed 
his  body  to-day;  his  legs  felt  strong  and  elastic 
under  him,  his  brain  clear. 

When  he  asked  for  Mrs.  Brentworth  at  the  up- 
town hotel  where  she  was  stopping,  he  was  told  that 
she  was  at  home.  He  ascended  the  stairs  two  steps 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  69 

at  a  time,  whistling  a  time  under  his  breath.  Yes, 
life  was  extremely  pleasant.  He  was  ushered  into 
the  usual  hotel  private  sitting-room,  with  its  hideous 
carpeting  of  enormous  pattern,  its  upholstered  fur- 
niture, buttoned  in  with  very  awful  buttons,  mar- 
ble-topped etageres,  gaudily  framed  mirrors,  and  a 
clock  representing  the  landing  of  Columbus  in 
white  alabaster  and  tarnished  gold.  But  the  room 
was  fragrant  with  flowers ;  there  were  some  grow- 
ing plants  near  the  windows,  which  opened  on  a 
balcony.  A  large  delf  bowl  filled  with  red  roses 
stood  on  the  hearth,  and  there  was  a  vase  of  lilies  of 
the  valley  upon  the  table,  where  were  also  scattered 
some  books.  They  appeared  to  be  novels.  A  pair 
of  long  gray  gloves  lay  on  the  sofa.  A  rich  even- 
ing wrap  bordered  with  laces  hung  over  the  arm  of 
a  chair,  and  a  half-emptied  box  of  bon-bons  was  on 
the  mantel-shelf.  In  one  corner  of  the  room  a  pair 
of  tiny,  high-heeled  slippers,  narrow  and  elegant, 
had  been  forgotten.  They  had  a  certain  defiance  in 
their  aspect,  as  if  to  challenge  his  approach. 

"  I  wonder,"  thought  Norwood,  standing  before 
the  chimney  with  his  arms  behind  him,  "  if  from 
all  these  bones  I  could  not  reconstruct  my  animal  ? 
She  is  evidently  extravagant  with  money,  a  gour- 
mande,  fond  of  flowers ;  not  a  walker,  as  she  wears 
such  heels,  hence  indolent;  very  careless,  as  she 
leaves  her  shoes  in  the  drawing-room,  and — " 


ft)  A   PURITAN  PAG  AX. 

The  door  opened  ;  a  lady  entered.  She  left  the 
door  ajar  into  a  large  bed  chamber,  which  seemed 
in  its  turn  to  open  into  other  rooms. 

"  Mr.  Norwood,  is  it  ?  "  she  said. 

She  spoke  with  a  slight  French  accent,  and  a 
lazy,  soft  drawl,  almost  a  lisp ;  one  of  those  per- 
sonal peculiarities  which  a  woman  who  disliked 
her  would  have  called  a  defect,  and  a  man  who 
did  not  dislike  her  "  ravishing."  The  movement 
of  her  eyes,  which  were  light  and  long,  was  slo\v, 
and  all  her  gestures  in  speaking  or  walking  were 
impregnated  with  a  certain  languor.  Her  hips, 
when  she  stepped,  had  an  undulating  movement, 
and  she  swayed  on  her  feet  sometimes  for  a  mo- 
ment as  if  they  were  too  small  for  her  weight. 
She  inclined  to  a  moderate  plumpness,  and  was  of 
medium  height.  She  had  very  young  blonde  hair, 
which  hung  over  her  forehead  nearly  to  the  eye- 
brows, and  an  adorable  little  sensual  nose  with 
shivering  nostril  which  tipped  upward  a  wee  bit 
at  its  end.  She  was  not  striking  in  either  face  or 
figure,  but  something  breathed  from  Mrs.  Brent- 
worth's  presence  which  is  more  powerful  than 
mere  physical  beauty,  although  women  will  never 
understand  it.  Her  first  and  immediate  influence 
was  one  of  soft  soothing  repose,  like  the  drone  of 
insects  in  hot  fields  at  noonday,  or  the  murmur  of 
a  lullaby  cooed  to  a  sleeping  cliild.  Norwood's 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  71 

full  nervous  energies,  ever  on  the  rack  and  strain, 
instantly  felt  the  lull.  Mrs.  Brentworth  was,  in 
fact,  not  a  nervous  person  herself. 

He  sank  on  the  sofa  by  her  side,  after  a  few 
first  words  had  been  spoken,  with  the  feeling  of 
being  caressed.  Nothing,  however,  could  have  been 
more  absolutely  prosaic  and  commonplace  than 
their  conversation.  She  talked  nearly  all  the  time, 
and  with  little  reserve  or  restriction.  She  had  in 
less  than  half  an  hour  given  him  a  synopsis  of  her 
entire  life,  pretty  nearly  as  she  had  lived  it ;  and 
she  continued  to  lay  before  him  exactly  what  she 
had  traveled  to  the  East  for  and  how  she  wished 
him  to  assist  her.  I  will  not  weary  the  reader  with 
their  business  relations,  which  have  nothing  to  do 
with  this  narrative.  A  plan  of  campaign  was  de- 
cided upon  and  first  of  all  a  visit  together  to  such 
tracts  of  real  estate  in  and  out  of  the  city  as  Mrs. 
Brentworth  had  claims  upon.  Their  values  must 
be  ascertained  and  then  legal  proceedings  insti- 
tuted. 

"It's  very  sad,  of  course,"  she  said,  "but  my 
friends  advised  me  not  to  let  Sam  take  everything 
from  me.  He  used  to  be  such  a  nice  boy,  but  he 
has  a  bad  Avife.  Papa  made  his  will  some  time  ago, 
before  my  brother  married,  and  intended  to  alter  it, 
but  he  died  after  a  day's  illness,  and  so  there's  all 
this  fuss  and  trouble." 


72  A   PURITAN  PAGAX. 

There  was  no  drop  of  venom  or  animosity  in 
her — this  was  apparent — nor  even  a  very  positive 
interest  in  her  own  concerns.  It  was  evident  that 
Mrs.  Brentworth  was  not  a  fighter.  The  combative 
temper  exists  indiscriminately  of  sex,  position  and 
vocation,  and  is  not  fostered  exclusively  at  "West 
Point.  She  told  Norwood  that  Mr.  Clement,  who 
was  a  firm  friend  of  her  father's,  had  advised  this 
step,  and  so  she  had  taken  it. 

As  she  talked  Norwood  had  a  most  peculiar 
sensation — a  species  of  sleepiness  as  if  he  had  been 
drugged.  He  shook  it  off,  once  or  twice  saying: 
"  What  ?  What  ?  "  shortly,  snapping  his  eyes  to 
make  sure  he  was  awake,  after  some  query  of  hers 
to  which  he  had  not  replied  with  sufficient  prompt- 
ness. Like  the  Frenchman,  he  might  have  said : 
"  I  do  not  hear,  I  look  at  her  speak." 

Once  out  of  her  presence  and  in  the  street  again 
the  exhilaration  and  exuberant  spirits  of  the  hour 
before  returned  to  him,  and  even  more  forcibly. 
Her  peculiar  influence  was  dissipated,  and  he  drove 
home  in  the  best  of  humors. 

At  dinner  he  casually  mentioned  to  his  wife, 
after  touching  upon  his  morning's  honors,  that  he 
had  a  new  client,  a  lady  from  the  West. 

It  was  one  of  his  rules  never  to  "  talk  shop/' 
and  although  Paula  knew  of  the  larger  concerns  of 
his  profession  its  details  were  never  unfolded  to 


A   PURITAN  PAGAN.  Y3 

her.  "  I  like  to  forget  my  work  when  I  cross  my 
threshold,"  he  had  once  said  to  her.  This  power  of 
dismissing  care  is  of  immense  advantage  to  men  of 
arduous  pursuits.  It  may  become  imperative. 

"  I  hope,"  said  Paula,  "  I  shall  not  be  expected 
to  call  upon  her."  She  did  not  like  to  meet 
strangers. 

"  Not  until  I  know  something  more  about  her," 
said  Norwood.  "  Besides,  I  doubt  if  she  remains 
long.  She  is  a  Californian." 

"  With  a  twang,  I  suppose,"  "said  Paula. 

"  "Well,  no  ;  not  exactly,"  said  Norwood.  "  She 
told  me  she  was  educated  at  a  French  convent.  She 
has  a  certain  kind  of  an  accent." 

Then  Paula  would  not  have  been  a  woman  if 
she  had  not  asked  the  inevitable  question : 

"  Is  she  pretty  ? " 

"Not  very?" 

"Young?" 

"  Sufficiently  so." 

"  Sufficiently  so  for  what  ? "  said  Paula  laughing. 

But  just  then  her  dog  Gyp  got  hold  of  the  table- 
cloth between  his  teeth,  and  a  wine-glass  fell  off  the 
table.  Gyp's  misdoings  created  a  momentary  flurry, 
and  Mrs.  Brentworth  was  forgotten. 

Norwood,  however,  was  not  permitted  to  forget 
her.  For  the  next  few  weeks  he  saw  her  almost 
daily — he  told  himself  .that  he  was  obliged  to  do  so 


74  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

— and  he  grew  to  know  her  extremely  well.  She 
was  extraordinarily  frank  and  confiding,  but,  al- 
though he  formed  a  very  favorable  opinion  of  her, 
he  did  not  press  his  wife  to  make  her  acquaintance. 
He  told  Mrs.  Brent  worth,  rather  vaguely,  it  must 
be  supposed,  that  they  lived  "  in  the  country."  The 
"  country,"  like  the  "  club,"  or  a  "  business  engage- 
ment," is  an  efficacious  sop  for  women.  Du  reste 
Mrs.  Brentworth  was  naturally  what  is  called  "  easy 
going."  She  levied  few  claims  upon  one's  atten- 
tion and  accepted  such  civilities  as  were  tendered 
amiably  and  gratefully.  She  seemed  to  be  superla- 
tively good-tempered;  nothing  disturbed,  nothing 
ruffled  her.  She  was  always  calm  and  soft.  Nor- 
wood thought  this  calmness  and  softness  enchant- 
ing ;  in  fact,  he  began  to  think  her  something  of  a 
siren,  for  the  hours  which  he  spent  with  her — they 
were  strangely  numerous — acted  upon  him  like  a 
narcotic,  while  those  passed  away  from  her  became 
fevered  and  unrestful. 

At  home  he  grew  irritable  and  moody,  com- 
plained of  headache,  said  he  was  overworked. 
Paula  urged  a  change  of  scene,  an  excursion — the 
summer  was  nigh — in  vain,  for  he  insisted  he  could 
not  leave  his  affairs.  She  sighed  and  drew  back 
into  herself.  A  shadow  had  fallen  between  them. 
Their  relations  at  this  time  grew  to  be  very  strained. 

Mrs.  Charles  Sorchan,  who  was  traveling  with 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  Y5 

friends  in  the  mountains,  wrote  Paula  a  letter  a  few 
weeks  later,  begging  her  niece  to  come  and  join 
her.  They  were  going  to  do  some  rough  camp- 
ing, and  she  thought  Paula  would  like  that. 

"  Since  you  can  not  go,"  said  Paula  to  her  hus- 
band, "  I  think  I  will  join  Aunt  Amy.  I  need 
bracing  air  myself,  and  I  have  never  camped  out  in 
the  wild,  wild  woods.  It  must  be  amusing." 

"  No,"  said  her  husband,  "  I  can  not  go.  I  will 
run  up  for  you  in  a  few  weeks  and  bring  you 
back." 

With  his  habitual  courtesy  he  took  her  to  the 
station,  and  saw  her  and  her  boxes  and  Honora 
safely  stowed  away  in  the  train.  They  parted  affec- 
tionately enough.  He  bade  her  "  take  good  care  " 
of  herself,  and  pressed  her  hand  as  if  with  a  certain 
compunction.  He  even  noticed  how  distinguished 
his  wife  was  in  appearance,  and  felt  proud  of  her. 

Paula  was  naturally  brave.  "All  will  come 
right,"  she  thought,  as  the  train  moved  away. 
"  He  is  not  well."  She  was  a  highly  strung  per- 
son, but  never  lachrymose,  hysterical  or  fanciful. 

With  Norwood  the  compunction  did  not  last 
long.  His  emotions  at  this  time  were  not  nor- 
mal; from  a  man  who  is  drunk  we  do  not  exact 
such. 

Well,  the  next  day  was  a  Sunday,  and  he  re- 
mained in  town  at  his  club,  where  he  had  a  room, 


76  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

and  he  and  Mrs.  Brentworth — her  name  was  Mabel 
— went  to  church  together.  She  was  what  is  called 
"High  Church."  Her  religion  was  a  sort  of  com- 
promise between  poetry  and  convention — it  was 
free  from  the  very  faintest  admixture  of  any  true 
spirituality.  A  chapel  was  therefore  discovered 
where  the  clergyman  was  a  "  priest"  arid  was  called 
"Father,"  where  there  were  candles  and  acolytes, 
and  incense  which  smelled  very  nicely,  and  flowers 
upon  the  altar  which  made  the  air  redolent  and 
heavy  with  fragrance,  and  music  which  sounded 
far  away  and  melancholy.  To  him  it  could  make 
no  difference ;  it  was  all  the  same. 

Mrs.  Brentworth  seemed  devout.  She  went 
through  all  the  long  service  understandingly  and 
conscientiously,  falling  on  her  knees  and  rising 
again,  bowing  her  head  reverently,  and  joining  in 
the  hymns  with  the  cadences  of  her  slow,  lisping 
words. 

It  was  very  hot.  By  and  by  she  produced  a 
fan  from  among  her  draperies — she  wore  a  delicate 
gray  gown  with  some  creamy  laces  at  the  breast 
and  sleeves  ;  she  always  seemed  to  have  a  bit  of 
lace  about  her  somewhere — she  dressed  beautifully, 
Norwood  thought — and  she  swung  the  thing  back- 
ward and  forward  before  her  face.  Her  cheeks 
were  of  a  deep  rose  pink  from  the  heat.  As  it 
moved  to  and  fro  it  brought  a  whiff  of  orris  and 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  77 

of  violets  to  Norwood's  nostrils.  They  quivered 
with  pleasure  and  he  breathed  quickly.  Yes,  it 
was  all  the  same,  here  or  elsewhere,  for  as  she 
prayed  or  sang  he  watched  her,  his  eyes  fastened 
upon  her  hair,  her  hands,  her  garments.  He  sat 
much  too  near  to  her,  and  he  knew  it.  He  should 
have  kept  a  more  respectful  distance.  But  he 
found  himself  incapable  of  making  a  movement. 
He  seemed  nailed  to  his  place.  A  lady  who  sat 
behind  them  noticed  this  and  thought  indulgently, 
"Probably  just  married."  Hers  was  a  pious  and 
simple  soul. 

It  is  possible  that  Mrs.  Brentworth  was  per- 
fectly cognizant  of  those  dark  eyes  upon  her — 
dark,  though  Paula  had  said  they  were  lighter 
than  hers.  If  she  was  it  did  not  evidently  dis- 
turb or  displease  her.  Other  men  had  perhaps 
looked  at  her  so  before,  and  when  I  say  this  I  do 
so  with  no  imputation  upon  her,  no  slur  on  her 
past,  for  until  now  Mabel  Brentworth  had  been 
pure.  She  was  simply  weak  and  pleasure-loving, 
and  to  be  looked  at  admiringly  is  agreeable  to 
almost  if  not  all  women,  deny  it  as  they  may.  Yes, 
it  was  pleasant.  Pleasant  to  know  that  he  trem- 
bled when  she  came  toward  him  trailing  her  gar- 
ments over  the  floor  through  her  rooms  to  her  bal- 
cony ;  pleasant  to  feel  that  he  started  when  she 
slipped  her  hand  into  his  at  parting.  Pleasant, 


78  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

ay,  surgingly  pleasant,  full  of  subtle  flattery,  for 
he  was  so  very  clever,  even  famous,  and  .  .  .  hand- 
some. 

He  really  seemed  to  like  her  very  much,  really. 
Mabel  Brentworth  felt  herself  justly  honored,  and 
a  moist  glitter  shone  in  her  half-shut  eyes.  Prob- 
ably if  Norwood  had  been  as  weak  as  she  was  he 
would  have  been  busy  digging  trenches  and  con- 
structing ramparts,  or  long  since  have  taken  to  his 
heels  and  fled  from  her.  Weak  men  are  proverb- 
ially more  prudent  and  timid  than  weak  women; 
less  reckless,  rash,  and  venturesome.  They  have 
generally  gauged  themselves  better.  The  opportu- 
nities are  more  frequent.  They  have  so  often  stum- 
bled, tumbled,  and  lain  prostrate !  But  strength 
which  has  rarely  been  tempted — for  temptation 
after  all  is  extremely  infrequent — is  defiant  and 
arrogant.  "  What  !  "  it  asks,  "  I  fall  ?  Bah  ! 
"Write  up  danger  signals  for  the  coward !  "  it  says  ; 
"  I  can  go  just  so  far  and  then  stop ! "  So  thought 
Norwood,  the  Infallible. 

When  they  came  out  of  church  they  walked 
home  side  by  side. 

"Your  cheeks,"  said  Norwood,  "are  the  color 
of  June  roses." 

It  was  not  a  novel  or  brilliant  speech,  but  it 
made  her  look  up  at  him  and  smile,  which  was  all 
that  he  wanted.  She  did  not  need  much  encour- 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  79 

agement  to  conversation  ;  she  was  a  great  talker. 
She  said  little  that  was  very  interesting  or  startling. 
She  had  a  certain  brightness,  and  liked  "  fun "  of 
all  things.  She  was  not  devoid  of  humor,  and  after 
all,  there  is  nothing  more  fatiguing  than  the  clever 
talker,  who  insists  upon  one's  alertness  and  atten- 
tion, repartee  not  being  the  American  male's  pe- 
culiar province.  With  her  there  was  always  that 
musical  laughter,  that  quaint  accent  which  set 
Norwood's  brain  reeling,  he  knew  not  why.  He 
sometimes  wondered  what  it  was  about  her,  and  if 
other  men  were  so  affected  by  her  presence.  The 
influence  fell  when  he  was  away  from  her,  and  this 
deceived  him.  "It  is  not  deep,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "It  is  something  indescribable  which  I  will 
easily  break  away  from.  Just  now  here  are  her 
affairs ;  I  am  obliged  to  be  near  her.  It  would 
be  quite  impossible,  ungenerous,  uncourteous  to 
forsake  her,"  and  so  he  would  seek  her  once  again 
and  be  invaded  by  that  strange,  drowsy  delight. 
In  very  truth  he  was  right — it  was  not  "  deep." 

"  Take  me  to  the  country,"  she  said  one  day. 
She  had  a  maid,  a  Frenchwoman,  who  had  also  been 
her  mother's  maid  and  had  lived  in  her  family  for 
years.  Otherwise  she  was  alone  and  apparently 
absolutely  her  own  mistress.  She  received  letters 
from  friends  in  California.  She  had  been  given 
some  of  introduction  to  persons  in  the  East,  but 


80  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

slie  delayed  presenting  them.  She  was  very  in 
dolent. 

"  They  would  probably  be  out  of  town  now," 
she  said  apologetically/ showing  Norwood  the  vari- 
ous envelopes. 

"  I  fancy  they  are,"  said  Norwood.  lie  knew 
the  names  of  some  of  the  people,  but  not  of  all. 
So  they  lay  on  the  table  or  in  her  top  drawer  among 
her  things  that  smelled  so  good. 

u  Take  me  to  the  country  for  a  day.  Very  soon 
I  must  be  finding  a  cottage  at  the  seaside,  if  I  don't 
wind  up  matters  here,  or  else  I'll  have  to  be  going 
back  to  the  Slope,  where  I  usually  pass  the  hot 
season." 

So  they  went  to  the  country.  It  was  never  diffi- 
cult to  persuade  Norwood  to  do  so.  He  had  a 
curious  sort  of  pagan  cult  for  nature.  He  liked  to 
be  a  part  of  it.  Paula  had  sometimes  laughingly 
called  him  Pan  when  he  lay  on  the  hot  sands  by  the 
sea  on  his  back  at  noonday,  "  baking  himself,"  as  he 
declared,  and  insisting  that  it  was  delightful.  He 
also  liked  to  meet  and  grapple  with  Nature  in  her 
fiercer  moods,  to  face  wild  storms  into  which  he 
ventured,  whose  whirl  made  him  dizzy  like  wine. 
He  adored  a  plunge  in  high  surf  after  a  tempest, 
his  superabundant  energies  finding  vent  in  the 
tumultuous  battle  he  then  waged  with  the  un- 
chained elements,  yet  when  Paula  attracted  his 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  81 

attention  to  the  tenderer,  more  melancholy  aspects 
of  nature,  to  the  beauty  of  wind-swept  plains  which 
set  her  dreaming,  or  the  sublime  loneliness  of 
mountain-tops,  he  remained  cold.  She  did  not  ex- 
acily  understand  this  paradox,  and  they  had  even 
quarreled  over  it  a  little.  She  accused  him  of  lack- 
ing the  perception  of  the  beautiful  after  all. 

So  now  these  two  "  went  to  the  country."  It 
does  not  much  matter  where  it  was.  Any  place  is 
good  enough  for  the  earth  spirit's  work,  and  it  was 
only  for  one  day.  All  they  knew  was  that  they  got 
into  a  boat  in  which  were  a  lot  of  people  they  had 
never  seen  before,  and  sailed  over  some  very  blue 
water,  and  by  and  by,  after  an  hour  or  two — they 
were  not  quite  sure  of  the  time — they  "  arrived." 
There  was  a  pretty  pavilion  which  overhung  the 
water,  shaded  by  awnings,  where  a  light  luncheon 
could  be  served  to  them.  They  would  be  at  home 
before  the  dinner  hour.  Home,  of  course,  meant 
her  hotel.  Norwood  had  taken  the  habit  of  remain- 
ing in  town  at  his  club.  There  were  woods  here 
behind  the  pavilion,  and  a  hill  away  from  the 
beach.  It  was  a  great  frolic.  Mrs.  Brentworth 
was  delighted  ;  she  laughed  at  everything  and  every- 
body, and  was  well  content  to  be  once  again  under 
real  trees.  Yes,  it  was  a  frolic,  nothing  more. 
After  luncheon,  of  which  they  partook  in  the  open 
air,  on  the  pavilion  piazza,  where  there  were  small 


82  A  PURITAN  PAGAX. 

tables  for  transient  coiners,  they  decided  to  Lire  a 
light  trap  and  to  take  a  drive.  Their  way  lay  be- 
tween quiet  hedgerows  in  lonely  lanes,  across  allur- 
ing woodland  paths.  Once  during  their  progress 
they  were  caught  in  a  sharp  shower.  They  tied 
the  horse  to  a  tree  and  took  refuge  in  a  half-ruined 
barn  on  the  outskirts  of  a  field.  It  was  empty  and 
srnelled  of  damp  hay,  and  over  their  heads  there 
was  a  granary  where  the  grain  was  stored.  From 
this  receptacle  \vas  shaken  now  and  then  a  fine 
golden  dust  which  a  passing  gust  swept  upon  Ma- 
bel's hair.  She  moved  to  evade  it.  When  the 
rain  stopped  they  sat  for  a  while  side  by  side  on 
the  barn  floor,  like  two  children,  with  their  limbs 
swinging  earthward  from  its  open  door.  They 
amused  themselves  watching  the  evolutions  of  some 
men  who  far  away  in  a  meadow  were  trying  to 
cover  up  their  straw  stacks,  and  smiled  together  at 
their  futile  hurry. 

She  was  very  gay,  but  Norwood  had  gro\vn 
quiet.  His  face  was  flushed  and  he  seemed  warm. 
His  hair  looked  pretty,  she  said,  in  little  damp  rings 
on  his  forehead.  She  made  him  take  his  hat  off. 
She  wanted  to  look  at  it.  "  Yes,"  she  said,  with 
her  eyes'  slow  upward  movement,  "  you  look  as  you 
must  have  looked  when  you  were  a  little  boy  with 
your  hair  all  curly."  He  took  off  his  hat  with  ab- 
solute docility,  put  it  on  again  mechanically  when 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  83 

she  bade  him,  was  altogether  not  only  a  little  boy 
but  a  little  lamb,  pathetically  obedient  and  harmless. 
And  so  they  drove  back  and  they  had  an  ice,  and 
he  took  a  glass  of  champagne,  only  one.  Then  tho 
sail  shoulder  to  shoulder,  through  the  falling  twi- 
light. Oh,  yes !  it  was  innocent  enough  no  doubt, 
but  when  they  reached  the  hotel  at  last,  after  the 
tete-d-tete  drive  from  the  landing,  the  man  was  be- 
side himself.  lie  had  promised  to  dine  with  her, 
and  ran  to  his  club  to  change  his  clothes.  He  could 
not  think  for  the  blood  in  his  brain,  and  at  best  he 
had  but  one  idea — to  be  away  from  her  as  few  mo- 
ments as  possible,  to  hurry  back.  To  what  ? — to 
what  ?  Why,  to  her,  of  course.  Why  not  ?  She 
was  a  lovely  person.  He  respected  her.  Of  course. 
He  was  strong. 

They  dined  in  her  drawing-room.  It  was  a 
light  dinner,  ending  with  more  ices  and  with  fruits. 
She  was  a  small  eater  and  never  touched  wine. 
Their  coffee  was  sent  to  them  on  the  balcony. 
Somehow  she  was  less  talkative  now,  less  merry. 
A  certain  sadness  seemed  to  have  crept  over  her. 
She  had  donned  a  thin  white  gown.  She  com- 
plained of  the  heat.  She  must  leave  town  now 
soon.  It  was  absurd  remaining  so  late.  She  called 
her  maid  and  dismissed  her  for  the  night. 

"  You  need  not  sit  up  for  me,  Aline,"  she  said. 
"  You  had  a  headache  this  morning.  Go  to  your 


84  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

room.  I  shall  stay  out  late  on  the  balcony,  it  is  so 
warm.  I  shall  not  need  you  again." 

The  impulse  was  one  of  kindness.  The  maid 
was  duly  grateful  and  retired.  As  they  sat  under 
the  stars  the  night  fell  over  them  both,  enveloping 
them  in  its  hot  breath.  It  laid  its  hand  upon  the 
dark  and  light  heads  so  close  together  among  the 
flowers.  She  did  not  cease  to  complain  : 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  warm !  so  warm ! " 

Her  skin  shone  pink  and  smooth  through  the 
open  fretwork  of  her  crocus-colored  stocking.  Nor- 
wood looked  dumbly  down  at  the  little  foot.  She 
lay  half  back  amid  a  pile  of  cushions  and  her  hands 
clasped  behind  her  head,  with  those  slow  words 
dropping  from  her  lazy  lips,  to  be  borne  away  by 
the  passing  wind : 

"  And  if  you  go  away  where  will  it  be,  fair  lady  ? 
Surely,  surely  you  will  have  pity !  You  will  not 
leave  us  desolate  yet  ?  You  will  choose  some  cool 
spot  near  where  your  friends  will  sometimes  lind 
you  on  a  summer's  evening  ?  " 

He  spoke  lightly  in  an  unnatural  voice,  as  if 
trying  to  control  some  invading  agitation,  but  he 
leaned  near  to  drink  in  her  sweetness.  She  shook 
her  head  sadly. 

"  What  matters  it  where  I  go,  Mr.  Norwood  ? 
No  one  cares.  I  am  quite  alone.  No  one  will  fol- 
low me.  No  one  wants  me  I " 


A  PURITAN  PAGAX.  35 

She  turned  a  wistful  face  close  to  his  own. 
Then  an  acute  temptation  seized  the  man,  a  delir- 
ium which  blurred  his  faculties  and  paratyzed  his 
energies.  It  shook  him  as  does  the  electric  thunder- 
gust  the  aspen  which  shivers  and  snaps  under  its 
fury.  It  swept  his  soul  and  left  it  bare  and  sere  of 
honor,  of  duty,  of  pledges,  of  self-respect.  Ay, 
until  these  things  all  seemed  to  him  but  empty  bab- 
blings, weary  lessons,  learned  by  rote  and  invented 
only  to  thwart  and  crush  out  a  man's  natural  long- 
ings. What  were  they  for  ?  What  ?  He,  for  one 
was  sick  of  it ;  sick  of  the  struggle.  Away,  away 
with  the  cold  shadow  that  had  always  weighed  upon 
his  every  impulse  !  Away !  Here  was  life !  Say 
what  we  will,  one  thing  alone  shall  save  a  man  in 
such  a  moment ;  only  one — the  spiritual  graces 
born  of  religious  beliefs  and  hopes. 

Norwood  had  none. 

Oh,  those  baby  eyes  and  pomegranate  lips ! 
They  were  life  !  He  touched  her  hand. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IT  was  a  short-lived  madness ;  very  brief.  The 
rapturous  freedom  born  of  a  broken  law  is  a  mirage 
reflected  across  shifting  waters.  It  lives  but  an 
hour.  The  rule  of  action,  duty,  grim  relentless 
jailers,  must  need  still  bind  the  creature  who  would 
escape  them.  Guilt  is  responsible,  imposes  has  its 
conscience  and  its  servitude.  To  the  man,  at  least, 
the  awakening  was  terrible,  for  when  it  came  he 
knew  that  he  had  yielded  to  impulse  and  to  nothing 
more ;  a  moment's  interlude  between  desire  and  sa- 
tiety. What  struck  him  as  extraordinary  was  that 
she  made  him  no  reproaches.  She  did  not  seem  to 
make  a  great  many,  or  forcible  ones  even  to  herself. 
The  great  oak,  storm  bent,  breaks  when  its  heart 
dies.  The  tender  shoot  bows  to  the  gale  and 
springs  back  intact.  So  it  seemed  with  these  two. 
He  was  pursued  with  regrets,  harassed,  tormented, 
miserable.  She  dismissed  the  crime,  and,  turning 
bravely,  faced  its  consequences.  He  had  never  im- 
agined that  one  so  entirely  feminine,  so  gentle, 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  87 

could  have  tins  force  to  meet  the  irrevocable.  In 
the  crisis  which  followed  it  was  she  who  supported 
him.  Natures  which  appear  to  us  all  frivolity  give 
us  these  surprises.  When  the  final  disclosure  came 
and  he  offered  her  the  only  reparation  that  a  man 
can  offer — to  leave  everything,  his  ties,  his  career, 
all,  and  follow  her — she  saw  that  he  was  fulfilling 
an  obligation  he  imposed  upon  himself  as  a  man  of 
honor — the  word  of  all  work  must  serve— and  that 
his  suggestion  was  born  of  a  tender  generosity,  not 
of  the  imperious  command  of  love.  Yes,  she  saw, 
and  if  this  was  her  punishment,  she  bowed  to  it. 

As  I  have  said,  weakness  has  sometimes  this 
strange  fortitude  accorded  to  it  from  outside,  some 
prop,  as  it  were,  that  the  more  self-reliant  do  not 
find.  It  seemed  as  if  an  angel  of  pity  had  stooped 
to  the  poor  creature  in  this  dilemma  and  touched 
her  with  a  sheltering  wing.  The  deserving  do  not 
need  these  heavenly  succors.  She  positively  and 
decidedly  refused  that  Norwood  should  make  the 
sacrifice,  and  .  .  .  they  parted.  She  even  declared 
that  he  was  never  to  see  her  more — that  his  future 
should  on  no  account  be  further  jeopardized  or  im- 
periled ;  he  owed  himself  to  others.  These  guilty 
ones  looked  at  each  other  with  melancholy  eyes 
across  the  abyss  of  their  mutual  sin,  like  two  voy- 
agers who  have  sailed  side  by  side  together  through 
a  summer's  day,  but  whom  the  winds  of  night 


88  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

shall  drift  apart  and  separate  forever.  To  his 
amazement,  after  the  first  shock  of  discovery  and  a 
few  tears,  she  accepted,  shall  I  say,  almost  gladly, 
what  to  most  women  would  have  been  cruel  tort- 
ure. 

She  made  him  no  reproaches,  but  she  would 
have  been  more  than  human  if  she  had  not  looked 
at  him  sadly. 

With  that  strong  practical  gift  which  comes  to 
frail  women  in  emergencies  she  thought  of  every 
detail,  planned  every  arrangement  herself.  A  cot- 
tage far  up  the  great  river,  and  some  miles  from  its 
shores,  a  few  hours'  journey  from  the  city,  was 
found  in  a  thinly  settled  neighborhood  to  shelter 
her.  Thither  with  her  maid,  Aline,  who  hated 
Norwood  with  an  undying  animosity,  but  pitied 
and  still  loved  her  mistress  —  thither  she  went. 
Servants  were  procured.  A  phaeton  and  a  pair  of 
horses  were  put  in  the  stable.  It  was  a  pretty 
place  enough.  She  liked  the  country.  She  was 
pleased  with  it  like  a  child. 

There  are  women  like  that,  who  are  always 
children.  From  a  fault  which  degrades  deep  na- 
tures lighter  ones  rally.  They  keep  a  certain  inno- 
cence through  their  evil  doing ;  they  shake  the  mud 
from  their  garments,  and  it  does  not  seem  to  cling. 
Mabel  Brentworth  came  out  of  the  furnace  wiser, 
older,  but  not  entirely  perverted.  She  could  still 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  89 

enjoy  simple  pleasures ;  she  could  still  do  kind  acts ; 
she  was  not  imbittered  ;  she  was  only  saddened. 
Who  knows  ?  A  heavier  sense  of  guilt  might  have 
sunk  her  into  greater  despair — despair  is  the  worst 
of  counselors.  Her  sanguine  flexible  temper,  in 
which  lurked  not  one  drop  of  gall — it  had  at- 
tracted Norwood  at  first,  as  her  confiding  ingenu- 
ousness had  flattered  him — did  not  tend  to  that 
dark  remorse  which  makes  a  Judas.  Her  cheek 
remained  smooth  and  blooming,  and  she  still 
laughed  sometimes  in  the  old  way.  Her  apprecia- 
tion of  the  comic  did  not  entirely  desert  her  even 
now.  She  was  not  a  woman,  probably,  capable  of 
sustained  sentiments ;  she  was  not  tragic.  She  had 
had  no  power  to  defend  her  honor ;  she  lacked  now 
the  audacity  and  activity  to  retain  her  lover.  Hers 
was  the  Creole  temperament.  A  woman  of  greater 
energy  would  have  hung  about  Norwood's  neck  for- 
ever. She  released  him. 

I  am  in  no  wise  defending  her.  This  is  only  a 
record  of  facts  and  of  character.  Married  to  a  man 
far  inferior  in  intellect  to  Norwood,  yet  who  would 
have  loved,  petted,  and  been  kind  to  her,  the 
mother  of  happy  children,  she  would  have  doubt- 
less lived  and  died  contented  and  virtuous,  and  the 
record  of  her  domestic  perfections  would  have 
adorned  her  tombstone.  She  was  the  victim  of  an 
untoward  fate  which  she  had  no  force  to  master. 


90  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

She  assumed  her  maiden  name  and  passed  for  a 
young  widow  lately  bereaved.  When  she  said 
"Good-by"  to  Norwood  she  said  it  forever.  In 
this  she  was  insistent,  and  he  did  not  combat  the  de- 
cision. If  she  suffered  at  his  acceptance  of  the  fiat 
she  did  not  say  so. 

It  therefore  came  about  that  Norwood  was 
now  forced  to  enter  upon  a  life  of  intrigue,  of 
lying,  of  subterfuge  as  repugnant  to  him  as  it 
ever  must  be  to  such  natures  as  have  early  been 
trained  to  prefer  the  straight  lines  of  honesty  and 
of  courage. 

But  the  lessons  of  perfidy  are  learned  with 
alarming  rapidity. 

In  those  days  he  found  himself  curiously  hard 
in  the  transactions  of  his  profession  ;  a  certain 
harshness  seemed  to  have  come  over  his  intercourse 
with  all  humanity.  One  day  he  charged  a  client, 
who  could  ill  afford  it,  a  fee  so  heavy  that  the  man's 
lips  contracted  with  anxiety  and  his  brow  with 
gloom. 

"  I  am  sure,  Mr.  Norwood,"  he  said,  "  I  don't 
know  where  the  money's  to  come  from.  I  have  a 
large  family.  I  am  very  hard  up." 

"  You  knew  what  you  were  going  into,  I  sup- 
pose," Norwood  replied  savagely,  and  did  not  less- 
en the  fee. 

"  He's  clever,   but  he's   hard,"  said   the   man 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  91 

later  to  his  wife,  tossing  sleepless,  in  his  bed  at 
the  thought  of  the  debt. 

A  first  moral  deflection  lea,ds  to  these  honey- 
combing processes.  The  sin  of  voluptuousness 
walks  hand  in  hand  with  that  of  cruelty.  He  was 
growing  callous.  "  Why  not? "  he  said.  "  Where's 
the  use?  It's  all  one."  He  had  lost  his  self-re- 
spect. 

The  profligate  will  smile  at  this.  The  action 
will  seem  such  a  defensible  one,  if,  indeed,  it 
requires  any  expiation.  Men  can  not  be  all 
Josephs.  It  would  be  absurd.  Once  Norwood 
remembered  the  Marchesa  and  her  "  one  of  the 
Marquis's  own,"  and  wondered  if  he  was  not 
ridiculously  sentimental.  Because  his  ancestors 
had  sucked  in  with  their  mother's  milk  the  stern 
doctrines  of  a  Calvin  was  it  necessary  that  he 
should  be  a  Puritan  ?  He  had  long  ago  swung 
away  from  those  old  tenets  with  hatred  and  con- 
tempt. Then,  why  this  misery  ?  After  all,  was 
he  the  first  sinner?  But  these  were7  his  worst 
moments ;  moments  when  the  voices  of  conscience 
were  dumb  within  him. 

And  Paula? 

Paula  had  of  course  returned  from  the  mount- 
ains long  ago.  The  winter  was  coming  on  apace. 
She  had  returned  to  him.  He  had  not  gone  to  her 
as  he  had  promised.  The  first  time  he  met  her 


92  A  PURITAN  PA6AK 

he  had  expected  to  be  filled  with  repentance  and  a 
tender  pity  at  the  mere  sight  of  her,  but  it  had  not 
been  thus.  He  was  to  have  gone  for  her  to  a 
certain  train  one  day,  but  she  had  taken  an  earlier 
one,  and  had  reached  their  home  before  ever  he 
had  started  for  the  station.  He  received  a  tele- 
gram from  her.  His  brougham  stood  ready  at  the 
door  of  his  offices  and  he  jumped  into  it  and  was 
driven  river  ward. 

He  found  his  young  wife  sitting  on  the  portico 
playing  with  her  dog.  She  was  throwing  a  stick 
for  her  little  pet  to  catch,  and  when  he  failed  to  do 
so  the  dog  whined  and  his  mistress  clapped  her 
hands  and  laughed.  He  stooped  to  kiss  her  cheek, 
saying,  "  How  well  you  look — splendidly!"  stum- 
bled over  Gyp  and  gave  him  a  kick  which  sent 
him  howling  under  one  of  the  columns.  "  Horrid 
animal !  "  he  said. 

He  felt  intensely  irritated  that  she  should  be 
playing  with  her  dog  at  this  moment.  It  was 
pitiable.  What!  Was  it  possible  she  did  not 
fathom  him  ?  Knew  nothing  ?  Guessed  nothing  ? 
It  was  silly,  absurd  !  Gyp  and  a  stick  !  It  was 
like  the  hare  brought  in  before  the  curtain  falls 
by  the  unsuspecting  husband  in  the  play  of  Nos 
Intimes  —  the  awed  actors,  the  strained  audience 
palpitating  with  expectancy,  and  behold  !  Un  la- 
pin  !  People  look  at  one  another,  and  leave  un- 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  93 

satisfied ;  the  finale  is  grotesque.  Climaxes  should 
have  a  less  pronounced  antithesis.  It  is  bad  art. 

He  noticed  how  well  she  looked,  with  a  ruddy, 
beautiful  bloom  born  of  the  forest  days  and  of  the 
sun  upon  her  face,  and  he  felt  in  that  first  mute 
survey  a  species  of  dislike  for  her,  almost  of  con- 
tempt. It  is  difficult  to  love  or  even  respect  what 
we  have  ourselves  degraded,  at  least  at  first.  The 
betrayer  has  degraded  the  object  he  has  betrayed. 
Paula  had  lost  something  in  Norwood's  eyes.  We 
instinctively  shrink  from  the  people  to  whom  we 
are  disloyal.  Better  feelings  came  to  him  very 
soon,  but  they  came  too  late. 

Paula  had  returned  well  in  health  and  hope- 
ful. The  irritable  word  to  the  dear  old  dog,  who 
had  been  her  father's  favorite,  the  chill  in  his  man- 
ner, the  coldness  in  his  eyes,  completely  unnerved 
her.  What  was  it?  She  was  to  ask  herself  the 
question  many,  many  times  in  the  months  that 
followed.  She  was  too  hurt,  too  wounded,  too 
proud  to  ask  him.  He  had  forced  himself  to  write 
to  her  during  her  absence  fairly  regularly,  and  his 
letters  had  been  less  wounding  than  his  presence 
was  now.  Letters  at  least  are  not  accompanied  by 
a  distrait  manner  and  wandering  attention.  They 
had  not  suited  her  exactly,  to  be  sure,  but  she  had 
told  herself  that  he  was  tired  and  ill.  A  letter  we 
receive  reflects  something  of  our  own  mood.  We 


94  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

can  interpret  it  as  we  like  best.  lie  did  not  look 
well  although  he  did  not  complain.  Paula  decided 
that  she  was  possibly  oversensitive,  foolish,  for 
after  their  first  meeting  he  forced  himself  to  be 
very  kind  toward  her.  Kind,  no  more,  but  women 
crave  more  than  kindness.  One  word  can  make 
a  woman's  day  a  paradise  of  joy;  the  lack  of  it 
plunges  her  into  despair.  Nothing  else  is  of  conse- 
quence. 

The  man  himself  was  so  wretched  that  he  some- 
times thought  of  telling  her  all,  throwing  himself 
upon  her  magnanimity,  asking  her  pardon  and 
beginning  a  new  life.  But  he  \vas  not  yet  such 
a  coward ;  he  still  could  bear  his  .burden  alone. 
That  was  well.  Of  the  truth  it  need  not  be  said 
Paula  had  not  the  shadow  of  a  suspicion.  Never 
once  had  such  a  thought  crossed  her  imaginings. 
In  this  thing  she  trusted  her  husband  absolutely. 
She  fell  back  upon  the  theory  that  his  health  was 
not  good,  and  that  his  professional  cares  weighed 
upon  him ;  that  there  was  something  in  his  affairs 
which  was  preying  upon  his  mind  ;  something  of 
which  he  could  not  speak.  All  this  was  of  little 
consolation.  They  still  went  about  together,  drove, 
walked,  sat  in  boxes  at  the  theatre  or  opera,  ate 
their  dinner,  made  visits.  Who  does  not  ? 

In  February  one  morning,  sitting  at  his  office 
desk,  Norwood  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  95 

a  young  boy  who  looked  like  a  countryman.  lie 
was  rather  loutish  and  rough,  held  his  head  down 
and  twirled  his  cap  about  in  his  hands  uncomfort- 
ably. The  stage  has  represented  the  type  indus- 
triously for  years.  It  has  become  histrionic. 

"Are  you  Mr.  Norwood?1'  he  asked.  "I've 
got  a  letter  for  you,  sir.  I  was  to  give  it  to 
the  gent  himself." 

Norwood's  heart  stood  still.  He  had  not  had 
the  courage  to  refrain  from  writing  to  Mabel  a  few 
times.  It  seemed  so  brutish,  so  hideous.  He  had 
also  sent  her  gifts  of  flowers,  of  fruits,  of  books. 
But  she  was  pluckier  than  he ;  she  had  made  no 
sign.  One  or  two  business  letters  she  had  dictated 
through  Aline.  Her  decision  had  been  irrevocably 
taken.  All  was  well  over. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

NORWOOD  took  the  letter.  It  was  short.  It 
was  from  the  physician  : 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR  :  Mrs.  Rodney  is  very  ill.     If 
she  has  any  friends  within  reach  I  think  they  had 
better  be  sent  for  at  once.     She  is  very  low. 
"  Respectfully  yours, 

"  L.  WHIMPLE." 

"  Are  you  straight  from  the  doctor's  ? "  asked 
Norwood  of  the  lad. 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  am  his  boy  as  does  his  chores 
and  minds  his  horse." 

"  Very  well.  When  is  the  next  train,  do  you 
know  ?  "  He  puckered  up  his  forehead  and  stared 
at  the  boy  with  what  the  latter  thought  an  oddish 
expression. 

"  There's  one  at  2.10,  sir,  the  way  train.  The 
express  don't  stop  where  I  get  out." 

"  Well,"  said  Norwood,  "  here's  some  money. 
You  can  get  your  luncheon  in  the  restaurant  oppo- 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  97 

site.  Wait  for  me  there  and  we  will  go  up  to- 
gether. I'll  meet  you  at  the  do.or  in  three  quarters 
of  an  hour." 

He  took  the  precaution  of  telegraphing  to 
Paula  that  he  was  forced  to  go  to  Albany  for  the 
night — she  might  hear  of  him  on  a  river  train — 
and  that  he  would  return  the  following  afternoon. 
As  he  was  interested  in  a  bill  pending  in  the  leg- 
islature, and  Paula  had  heard  him  allude  to  its 
importance,  his  message  would  not  seem  too  incred- 
ible to  her. 

Upon  the  train  he  met  some  friends.  He  had 
avoided  the  drawing-room  car,  but  for  some  occult 
reason  so  had  these  men.  They  came  up  to  him 
and  asked  him  carelessly  where  he  was  bound.  He 
had  grown  accustomed  to  lying,  and  boldly  said  to 
"  Albany."  As  chance  would  have  it,  and  luckily 
for  him,  they  were  stopping  at  West  Point,  so  that 
after  they  had  dragged  him  into  the  smoking  car, 
harassed  and  persecuted  him  with  idle  talk,  he  did 
finally  shake  himself  free  of  them.  He  watched 
them  get  out  on  the  light  fine  snow  which  covered 
the  platform  at  Garrison's,  and  run  down  toward 
the  puffing  ferry-boat.  An  indefatigable  candy  and 
fruit  vender,  a  youth  of  about  sixteen,  with  a  thin, 
pale  face,  was  plying  his  trade  with  nasal  euphony 
up  and  down  the  car. 

"  Buy  peppermint  lozenges,  gents  !     San  Fran- 


98  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

cisco  dried  oranges  !  Apples !  Bananas  !  Candied 
citron  ! " 

He  threw  his  packages  hither  and  thither,  on 
people's  knees  and  against  their  breasts,  which  mer- 
ciless fusilade  they  accepted  with  that  Olympian  pa- 
tience which  characterizes  the  traveling  American. 
No  depth  of  dolor  can  wring  a  reproach  from  the 
Yankee's  parched  tongue  as  he  sits  in  heat,  dust, 
and  despair,  whirling  along  to  the  haven  where  he 
would  be. 

To  Norwood's  exasperated  nerves  this  continued 
bombardment  became  unendurable. 

"  Stop,"  he  said,  with  a  wave  of  his  arm,  having 
just  received  a  box  of  the  San  Francisco  oranges  in 
his  shirt  front.  "  Cease  pelting  me,  sir,  or  I'll  Itave 
you  arrested  for  a  public  nuisance ! " 

The  boy  stopped,  put  his  tongue  in  his  cheek, 
pushed  his  cap  back  from  his  brow,  and  said  aloud 
so  that  all  might  hear  : 

"  I  guess  you're  the  kind  as  doesn't  want  any- 
body to  make  a  livin'  but  himself." 

Everybody  laughed,  and  Norwood  sank  back 
discomfited.  Sitting  in  his  corner  he  said  to  him- 
self that  the  boy  was  right.  He  had  indeed  lived 
for  himself. 

The  skies  were  clear.  The  snow  flurry  had  but 
sugared  the  fields  and  hills  with  white  fluffy  drifts. 
The  day  had  been  mild,  and  the  sun  was  beginning 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  99 

-to  sink  in  a  red  west  when  the  train  stopped  at  the 
station — at  last.  He  alighted  and  found  a  rickety 
vehicle.  The  driver  was  standing  in  the  mud,  beat- 
ing his  hands  upon  his  breast  to  keep  them  warm. 
The  twilight  was  falling  with  a  little  chill.  The 
boy,  his  companion,  called  out  :  "  Holloa,  Gus  ! 
Will  you  give  us  a  lift "  ?  and  they  both  clambered 
in.  They  drove  the  three  miles.  When  they  turned 
in  at  the  gate  Mrs.  Brentworth's  man  servant  was 
lolling  against  one  of  the  gate  posts  looking  down 
the  road. 

"We  thought,  sir,"  he  said,  touching  his  hat, 
"  as  somebody  might  be  up  by  the  train." 

"  How  is  she — Mrs.  Rodney  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  can't  say  as  she's  very  smart,"  said 
the  man. 

The  physician  met  him  in  the  hall.  Norwood 
explained  to  him  that  Mrs.  Rodney's  friends  were 
all  in  California,  that  he  was  the  only  one  here,  that 
she  had  only  come  to  the  East  to  see  after  some 
property,  etc.  He  wanted  to  save  her  good  name. 
But  it  mattered  very  little.  He  did  not  know  what 
he  was  saying,  and  it  is  probable  that  the  doctor  did 
not  heed  him. 

Aline  came  down-stairs.  She  had  been  nursing 
her  rage  all  day — nay,  for  many  months.  She  had 
kept  it  well  stored,  surging  in  her  heart ;  and  now 
— now  that  he  was  here — she  intended  to  give  her- 


100  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

self  the  exquisite  luxury  of  letting  loose  upon  him 
the  poisoned  stream  of  her  fury.  She  would  hurl 
in  his  teeth  his  infamy — nay,  perhaps  betray  her 
dying  mistress  to  others  in  the  pleasure  of  exposing 
Norwood's  crimes.  But,  somehow,  when  she  saw 
the  man's  face  she  stopped.  There  was  something 
in  it  which  held  her  back,  awed.  She  muttered  some 
jumbled,  inarticulate  sentence,  wavered  a  moment, 
turned,  went  up-stairs  again,  and  a  door  closed  upon 
her.  The  bitter  words  were  not  spoken  then  or  ever 
after.  She  could  not  have  said  why. 

"  She's  still  alive,"  said  the  doctor. 

They  went  in.  The  nurse  was  beside  her.  She 
was  propped  up  in  the  bed,  and  Norwood  was  struck 
by  the  fact  that  she  did  not  look  very  ill.  Her 
cheeks  were  flushed  with  fever,  and  her  eyes  brill- 
iant. Her  hands  wandered  on  the  coverlet.  Her 
long  bright  braids  lay  upon  the  pillow  behind  her ; 
they  were  caught  together  with  a  bit  of  ribbon. 
But  as  he  approached  he  noticed  that  she  breathed 
with  short,  rapid  breaths.  Her  mind  wandered  at 
times  a  little,  but  she  knew  him  at  once. 

"  Ah ! "  she  said,  "  so  you've  come,  Mr.  Nor- 
wood. How  good  of  you."  Then  she  said  :  "  I'm 
very  happy.  It's  a  beautiful  day,"  and  smiled. 

After  this  she  talked  incessantly  in  low  tones. 
Several  times  she  said,  "  In  the  fields,  in  the  fields." 

Norwood,  drawing  near,  tried  to  take  one  of  her 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  101 

hands  in  his  own,  but  she  pushed  him  gently  but 
firmly  away.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  no." 

Death  craves  this  solitude.  Our  touch  can  only 
disturb  that  loneliness  which  is  its  majesty.  He 
fell  upon  his  knees,  crushing  the  sheet  against  his 
mouth.  She  tossed  and  moaned  softly.  He  rose 
again  to  his  feet  in  a  moment  to  follow  and  ask  the 
doctor  if  anything  could  be  done — if  any  great  phy- 
sician might  be  sent  for  from  the  city,  from  any  part 
of  the  Union.  He  implored  him  to  do  anything, 
everything  to  save  her.  "  Save  her  !  Save  her  ! " 
he  kept  reiterating,  holding  the  doctor's  coat-sleeve. 
But  the  physician  shook  his  head.  "  There  was  no 
hope  from  the  first  moment,"  he  said.  "  She  is 
doomed.  She's  in  extremis.  It's  a  pity,  for  she 
seems  a  sweet  creature ;  so  childlike  and  innocent, 
and  the  child  is  lovely." 

"  The  child  !  "    Norwood  had  forgotten  it. 

"  A  beautiful  little  boy,"  said  the  nurse.  "  Aline 
has  him." 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  him  "  ?  asked  the  doc- 
tor, smiling.  People  always  smile  when  they  speak 
of  children. 

"  Not  now,"  said  Norwood.  He  went  back  to 
the  bedside. 

Leaning  to  her  suddenly,  he  heard  her  say  dis- 
tinctly one  word,  "  Prayer  !  "  "  Doctor  !  doctor ! " 
he  cried.  "  A  clergyman  !  Women  care  about  these 


102  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

things.  "We  ought  to  have  thought  of  it.  There's 
an  Episcopal  church  here,  I  know.  Is  the  rector  at 
home  ?  She's  an  Episcopalian.  Quick  !  Send  the 
boy  for  him." 

In  less  than  an  hour  the  clergyman  had  arrived. 
He  brought  into  the  sick  room  as  he  entered  a  whiff 
of  fresh,  crisp  air  from  the  outside  country. 

"  Peace  to  this  house  !  "  he  said  solemnly,  as  he 
crossed  the  threshold. 

He  was  a  young  man  and  fair,  with  a  fresh,  un- 
sullied face  and  a  kind  manner.  He  approached 
the  bed  and  stood  for  a  moment  looking  down  at 
the  dying  woman. 

"  Dear  me,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head  from  side 
to  side.  "  Dear  me,  how  very  sad  ! "  He  then 
stooped  over  her.  "  Mrs.  Rodney,  it  is  I,  Mr. 
Ilinckley.  Will  you  say  this  after  me  ?  "  Then  he 
clasped  his  hands.  "  Jesus,  forgive  me  my  sins." 

She  looked  up  just  for  a  moment,  vacantly,  as  if 
not  heeding,  but  as  he  repeated  the  words  distinctly, 
"  Jesus,  forgive  sin,"  she  murmured  dreamily. 

"  Jesus  forgive  us  our  sins,"  echoed  the  priest. 

"  The  Lord  have  mercy  upon  us,"  said  the  nurse. 

"Amen,"  said  the  doctor,  fervently. 

Then  the  priest  knelt  by  the  bedside  :  "  *  Out  of 
the  deep  have  I  called  unto  thee,  O  Lord  ;  Lord, 
hear  my  voice.  Oh,  let  thine  ears  consider  well  the 
voice  of  my  complaint.  If  thou,  Lord,  wilt  be  ex- 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  103 

treme  to  mark  what  is  done  amiss.  O  Lord,  who 
may  abide  it ! '" 

"  Jesus — forgive — sin,"  said  Mabel,  tossing  on 
the  bed  ;  and  then  a  man  with  the  cold  sweat  rolling 
from  his  brow,  with  wild  distraught  eyes,  crouching 
on  his  knees,  writh  the  sheet  still  in  his  clasped  hands, 
a  man  who  was  an  unbeliever,  a  pagan  and  a  sinner, 
looked  up  and  cried  in  a  husky  voice  into  the  silence 
of  the  cold  starry  night : 

"  Jesus,  my  God,  have  mercy  !  Forgive  !  For- 
gi  ve !  Mercy !  Mercy !  Save  her  !  Save  her  ! " 

It  was  while  the  clergyman  repeated  the  prayer 
for  a  departing  soul  that  the  change  came.  The 
awful  shadow ;  the  gray,  dim  visitant ;  and  before 
he  had  done,  the  doctor,  holding  her  wrist,  said  : 
"All  is  over." 

Aline  had  entered  noiselessly  and  unnoticed. 
She  broke  forth  now  into  loud  sobbings. 

Shall  we  not  hope  that  the  tribunal  before  which 
Mabel  was  to  be  arraigned  was  more  merciful  than 
those  of  earth  would  have  been  to  her  ?  She  had 
fluttered  too  closely  to  that  devouring  flame  in 
which  so  many  have  been  burned  before.  She 
loved  too  much  its  light  and  warmth,  and  playing 
one  day  too  near  its  radiance  she  had  lost  her  bal- 
ance and  fallen  in  and  been  consumed.  She  had 
not  been  one  of  the  fortunate  ones  of  earth.  Shall 
we  not  endeavor  to  pity  and  to  pardon  ? 


104  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

The  Coroner  was  summoned.  He  scented  some 
mystery,  but  the  doctor's  certificate  and  the  assurance 
that  the  lady  had  but  lately  been  widowed  satisfied 
him.  He  couldn't  be  bothered — an  epidemic  was 
raging  in  the  nearest  village,  and  he  was  unusually 
occupied.  His  business  was  not  of  the  sort  that 
encourages  curiosity. 

Norwood  returned  for  the  funeral.  To  paint 
his  feelings  would  be  impossible.  I  will  not  at- 
tempt it.  There  were  present  only  Dr.  Whim  pie, 
Aline,  and  the  other  servants.  The  clergyman  who 
had  been  present  at  her  death  performed  the  serv- 
ice. She  was  buried  in  a  quiet  graveyard  in  a  hol- 
low, in  the  shadows  behind  the  church.  After  the 
earth  had  been  shoveled  over  her,  the  clergyman's 
wife,  a  pretty,  young  woman,  came  out  of  the  rectory, 
close  by,  and  threw  some  flowers  on  the  newly 
made  mound. 

"There  was  something  very  strange  about  it 
all,"  she  said  afterward  to  her  husband,  as  they  sat 
together  in  his  study  that  evening,  "  and  very  sad." 

"  Yes,  very,"  said  the  clergymen. 

"  That  man — that  stranger — who  was  he  ?  He 
seemed  to  feel  terribly,"  said  Mrs.  Hinckley. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  her  husband.  "  They 
said  it  wras  her  lawyer." 

"  What  did  you  think  ? "  asked  his  wife. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  repeated  again. 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  105 

"  I  saw  her  in  church  several  times.  I  wish  I 
had  called  when  you  did.  You  saw  her  once,  I 
think?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  clergyman.  "  I  had  intended 
going  again.  I  reproach  myself." 

"  Well,  so  I  do,  Arthur.  She  was  very  sweet 
looking  ;  so  pretty.  I  hear  the  child  will  stay  here 
for  a  while.  I'll  drop  in  sometimes." 

Her  husband  was  silent.     He,  too,  wondered. 

"  It  was  a  lonely  death,"  he  said  after  a  while, 
"  but,"  he  added  under  his  breath,  "  death  must  al- 
ways be  so." 

She  ran  and  nestled  against  him.  "  Dear  Ar- 
thur," she  said,  "  you  are  good !  I  love  you !  Were 
you  always  good  ?  " 

"I  do  not  think  there  is  anything  in  my  past, 
Alice,  that  would  give  you  pain,"  and  he  smoothed 
back  her  hair,  smiling. 

"  Were  you  so  very  religious  when  you  were  a 
boy,  Arthur?"  she  asked. 

"  I  felt  the  call  early,"  he  replied. 

"  Would  not  loving  me  have  kept  you  good  al- 
ways ? " 

"Love  and  faith,"  he  answered.  "Ah!  yes, 
they  are  indeed  a  shield." 

Then  she  again  nestled  against  him  saying :  "  I 
love  you,  dearest ! " 

Norwood  had  seen  the  child.     It  was  healthy 


106  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

and  thriving ;  before  he  left  he  had  arranged  every- 
thing. Money  is  of  peculiar  value  in  cases  where 
secrecy  is  necessary.  Norwood  did  not  stint  it  now. 
There  is  nothing  so  expensive  as  concealment ;  but 
fortune  had  favored  him,  so  people  said.  He  was 
very  successful  and  was  growing  rich. 

When  all  these  things  were  done  he  went  home. 
He  wrote  to  Clement  that  Mrs.  Brentworth  had  died 
very  suddenly  in  the  country,  and  been  interred 
where  she  had  died.  He  bade  him  inform  her  rela- 
tives, and  that  of  course  if  they  desired  it  the  re- 
mains would  be  sent  to  California.  But  they  ap- 
parently did  not,  and  save  two  or  three  letters  from 
women  friends  that  straggled  in  at  intervals  asking 
for  further  particulars,  which  he  furnished  as  best 
he  could,  nothing  further  was  ever  required  of  him. 

Mrs.  Brentworth  had  died  intestate.  Her  brother 
was  her  sole  heir,  which,  as  a  natural  result,  brought 
an  abatement  of  the  action.  He  was  satisfied  now, 
and  so — she  was  forgotten,  lying  in  the  cemetery 
under  the  hill. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

MRS.  CHARLES  SORCHAN  lived  the  even,  regular 
life  of  the  solitary.  She  was  careful  of  her  health. 
She  invariably  walked  four  times  around  the  square 
every  day  before  her  breakfast,  which  she  took  at 
twelve  o'clock.  Returning  from  this  promenade 
one  morning  several  weeks  after  the  events  record- 
ed in  the  last  chapter  she  found  her  niece  awaiting 
her  in  the  drawing-room. 

"  What  a  pleasant  surprise  ?  "  she  said,  advancing 
to  meet  that  lady. 

"  May  I  stop  and  breakfast  with  you,  Aunt 
Amy?" 

"  Why,  my  dear,  of  course,  and  you  are  kind  to 
come." 

Paula  began  to  pull  at  her  gloves.  She  took  off 
her  hat  and  smoothed  her  hair.  "  I  felt  rather  de- 
pressed, Aunt  Amy.  I  thought  I  would  drive  in 
for  a  change." 

"  It  seems  to  me  quite  natural  that  you  should  be 
depressed,"  said  her  aunt. 


108  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean,  Aunt  Amy  ? " 

"  I  mean,  my  dear,  that  the  way  you  are  going 
on  is  simply  ridiculous,  it's  quite  sufficient  to  bring 
on  a  fit  of  the  blues.  You  and  Norwood  persisting 
in  burying  yourselves  in  that  out-of-the-way  house 
is  absolutely  absurd.  I  don't  wonder  you  are  both 
tired  to  death  of  it.  Depend  upon  it,  Paula,  it's  a 
mistake." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  said  Paula,  "  we  have 
made  mistakes." 

This  admission  was  so  unlike  her  that  her  aunt 
looked  at  her  sharply.  She  saw  a  pair  of  inscruta- 
ble eyes  and  a  mouth  whose  under  lip  was  sucked  in 
as  if  to  conceal  tumult.  They  adjourned  in  a  few 
moments  to  the  dining-room.  Sipping  their  choco- 
late opposite  to  each  other  Paula  asked  Mrs.  Sor- 
chan  a  strange  and  sudden  question  : 

"  Aunt  Amy,"  she  said,  "  did  you  ever  see  an  in- 
sane person  near  by?  I  mean  did  you  ever  asso- 
ciate with  any  insane  people  ? " 

"  Heavens !  Paula,"  said  Mrs.  Sorchan,  laughing, 
"I  hope  I  have  better  taste  in  selecting  my  com- 
pany." 

Paula  smiled,  too,  faintly,  and  they  resumed 
their  chocolate  and  timbales  de  jambon. 

The  young  woman's  appetite  did  not  seem,  how- 
ever, to  be  vigorous.  By  and  by  she  led  her  aunt 
to  speak  of  her  charities,  of  her  philanthropic  work. 


A  PURITAN   PAGAX.  109 

"  You  go  to  the  prisons,  Aunt  Amy,  do  you  not," 
she  asked,  "  on  your  errands  of  mercy  about  the 
city?" 

"  I  am  not  exactly  a  Caroline  Fry,"  said  Mrs. 
Sorchan,  "  but  I  have  visited  the  prisons  sometimes. 
Why,  my  dear  ? " 

"Nothing,"  said  Paula.  But  after  a  pause  she 
added  :  "  I  suppose,  then,  you  have  sometimes  seen 
those  men  who  are  criminals,  who  have  committed 
some  terrible  deed,  perhaps  who  were  soon  to  be  ex- 
ecuted. Aunt,"  she  said,  leaning  across  her  plate, 
and  with  a  peculiar  tremor  in  her  voice,  "  how  do 
they  behave,  how  do  they  look  ? " 

Mrs.  Sorchan  put  down  her  knife  and  fork  and 
once  more  fixed  her  niece  with  a  shrewd,  penetrating 
regard. 

"Do  you  wish  to  come  with  me  and  see  for 
yourself  ?  "  she  asked.  "  These  things  give  knowl- 
edge of  the  world,  and  you  know  about  as  much  of 
the  world  as  a  lively  kitten." 

"  No.  I  shouldn't  have  the  lilt  of  it.  I  am  not 
fitted.  I  am  hard.  I  have  no  sympathy,"  said 
Paula,  trying  to  speak  lightly. 

"  I  remember,  now,"  said  Mrs.  Sorchan,  holding 
up  a  piece  of  crisp  toast  in  her  bloodless,  delicate 
hand,  "I  remember  a  visit  I  once  made  to  the 
Tombs.  One  of  the  best  dressed  and  most  gentle- 
manly-looking men  I  ever  saw  was  having  his  din- 


HO  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

ner  in  the  Warden's  room.  lie  was  really  very 
handsome,  so  alert  and  well  made,  although  when  he 
smiled  I  noted  that  he  had  cruel  teeth.  He  bowed 
to  me  very  politely,  but  when  he  caught  sight  of 
Quicksilver,  who  was  tucked  under  my  arm,  with 
his  nose  just  peeping  out  over  my  muff,  he  gave 
vent  to  a  horrible  oath.  The  Warden  rebuked  him 
for  indulging  in  profanity  in  my  presence.  '  I  am 
sure  I  beg  the  lady's  pardon,'  he  replied,  bowing  to 
me  very  gallantly, '  but  the  fact  is  the  sight  of  one  of 
those  d — d  little  wiffets  always  makes  me  just  sick.' 
It  seems  the  gentleman  was  a  distinguished  burglar, 
an  honor  and  an  ornament  to  his  profession,  who  had 
lately  been  arrested  for  grand  larceny,  and  the  small 
dog,  he  told  the  Warden  afterward  apologetically, 
was  the  enemy  of  all  others  which  lie  most  dreaded. 
The  mere  sight  of  one  caused  him  a  nervous  spasm. 
*  I'd  rather  step  on  a  smoking  petard,  any  day,' 
he  said." 

Paula  seemed  but  languidly  interested  in  this 
anecdote. 

"  How  is  your  husband  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Sorchan 
shortly.  "  I  thought  him  looking  poorly  the  last 
time  I  saw  him,  but  that's  a  good  while  ago  now." 

"  He  is  not  well." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  him  ? " 

"  He  can  not  sleep  " — Paula  paused  and  a  flush 
mounted  to  her  hair.  "  He  never  sleeps." 


A   PURITAN  PAGAN.  HI 

"  He's  a  donkey  to  be  throwing  his  life  away  for 
obstinacy,  and  you  can  tell  him  so  with  my  compli- 
ments. It's  clear  he's  overdone.  Why  in  Heaven's 
name  don't  the  man  stop  working  ?  Why  don't  you 
go  abroad  ? " 

'•  He  works  early  and  late,  and  half  of  the  night," 
said  Paula.  "  He  says  he  has  many  important  cases." 

"  Have  you  seen  a  doctor  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"Well?" 

"  He  felt  his  pulse  and  looked  at  his  eyes  and 
said  there  was  some  nervous  depression,  and  gave 
him  medicine." 

"  And  is  that  all  ? " 

Then  Paula  burst  into  tears. 

Her  aunt  rose  quickly  and  came  and  laid  a  kind 
pressure  upon  her  niece's  trembling  fingers.  Tliis 
was  serious. 

"  My  child,"  she  said,  "  how  can  I  help  you  ?  I 
love  you  dearly.  You  are  all  I  have.  You  have 
been  like  an  own  daughter  to  me.  I  think  you  are 
unnecessarily  troubled  about  your  good  husband's 
health.  This  is  a  phase.  Men  have  such.  It  will 
pass.  He  is  overworked.  Insomnia  is  not  an  un- 
common symptom  with  men  who  overtax  the 
brain." 

Then  as  her  niece  did  not  answer  she  became  a 
little  frightened,  and  said  in  a  sinking  voice,  "  Why, 


112  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

my  dear,  do  you  ever  think  ...  do  you  ever 
imagine  .  .  .  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Paula,  "  I  have  feared  everything,  I 
have  thought  ...  it  was  the  brain." 

She  talked  her  anxiety  out  a  little ;  not  much, 
not  entirely.  It  was  not  her  nature.  But  she  went 
home  with  renewed  courage.  She  would  need  it 
all. 

Her  aunt  said  to  her  all  that  women  do  on  such 
occasions,  promised  to  come  and  see  Norwood  her- 
self, gave  a  great  deal  of  good  advice,  but  somehow 
she  had  a  certain  presentiment  herself  of  impending 
trouble  which  robbed  her  counsels  of  the  firmness 
self-confidence  inspires. 

In  these  days  Paula  was  very  womanly  and  gen- 
tle with  her  husband.  Who  would  not  have  been 
at  the  sight  of  such  suffering  ?  She  was  very  valiant 
through  those  somber  moods  of  his  which  well  nigh 
overwhelmed  her  with  dismay,  and  often  through 
the  crack  of  the  door  she  watched  him  during  those 
nights  of  agony  when  he  paced  his  floor  wringing 
his  hands,  murmuring  incoherent  words,  or  threw 
himself  upon  his  bed,  whose  pillow  was  saturated 
at  the  dawn  as  with  the  night-sweats  of  terrible 
illness. 

One  evening,  soon  after  her  visit  to  Mrs.  Sorchan, 
she  sought  his  study,  the  room  which  had  once  been 
her  father's,  with  a  determination  to  make  one  more 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  113 

effort,  to  use  every  artifice  to  persuade  him  to  leave 
America  with  or  without  her,  as  he  desired ;  only 
to  go,  in  search  of  rest  arid  health-giving  change. 
He  had  heretofore  peremptorily  refused  every  sug- 
gestion of  the  sort.  She  found  him  sitting  at 
his  table  close  to  a  shaded  lamp — the  room  was 
otherwise  in  darkness  —  one  hand  half  over  his 
eyes,  which  had  troubled  him  of  late — they  were 
blood-shot  and  congested — with  a  book  before  him. 
But  he  was  not  reading,  and  she  saw  on  his 
face  that  furtive  look  of  anguish  which  swept 
it  sometimes  when  he  did  not  know  himself  ob- 
served. 

She  came  boldly  to  him  now,  laid  her  hand  on 
his  shoulder,  and  said  as  cheerily  as  possible  : 

"  Well,  dear  Norwood,  I've  come  to  torment 
you  again.  The  same  old  subject,  to  persuade  you 
to  take  a  trip,  a  voyage.  I  want  you  to  listen  to 
me.  Come,  put  up  that  tiresome  book  ;  be  good 
to  me." 

It  is  probable  that  weeks  of  depression  and  of 
pain  had  done  their  work,  that  the  man's  brain  was 
indeed  disordered  with  the  phantasms  of  his  vigils 
and  of  his  remorse,  else  he  surely  would  not  have 
been  so  selfish  and  so  cruel ;  for  I  repeat  that  we 
have  no  right  to  cast  the  burden  of  our  sins  upon 
others,  to  force  their  innocent  shoulders  to  a  yoke 

we   ourselves   should   have  the  fortitude  to  carry 
8 


114:  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

alone.  He  peered  up  at  her  curiously  through  the 
gloom  and  said  : 

"Are  you  not  afraid  of  me,  Paula?" 

"  Afraid  of  you,  my  dear  husband  ? "  and  the 
tears  rose  to  her  eyes.  "Afraid  of  you  ?  Why  .  .  ." 

But  before  she  could  complete  the  sentence  he 
shook  her  light  touch  fiercely  from  him. 

"  Take  your  hands  off  of  me  !  "  he  cried  in  harsh 
accents.  "  Take  them  off  !  do  you  hear  me  ?  They 
rest  upon  the  shoulder  of  a  murderer  and  an  adul- 
terer !  You  will  be  polluted  !  " 

And  then,  as  she  fell  back  from  him,  tottering, 
he  told  her  all.  He  palliated  nothing.  He  poured 
it  out  with  an  eagerness  which  took  away  his  breath, 
gasped  it  forth  in  a  torrent,  and  with  an  eloquence 
which  he  had  rarely  reached  in  the  triumphant 
hours  of  his  oratorical  successes — all,  all.  The  hor- 
rible, bitter,  unveiled  truth.  And  as  he  talked  he 
was  conscious  of  two  distinct  sentiments.  A  light- 
ening of  the  iron  bands  about  his  heart  and  brain 
and  throat,  as  if  those  tightened  cords  \vhich  had 
tortured  and  suffocated  him  were  loosening,  and — 
shall  I  say  it  ? — a  vague,  half-formulated,  half-ac- 
knowledged hope.  A  hope  of  what  ?  Ay,  what  ? 
Ah,  this  was  it !  That  she  might  have  mercy. 
Might  let  him  in  this  hour  of  abasement  and  re- 
pentance still  live  near  to  her.  He  needed  her 
presence,  he  was  afraid  to  be  alone.  He  had  but 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  115 

lately  gauged  her  tenderness  and  her  magnanimity. 
He  wanted  them  both  now.  Would  they  be  taken 
from  him  ?  or  would  she  be  great  and  sublime  to 
the  end  ?  He  had  forfeited  all  claim  to  her  love, 
but  in  the  depths  of  his  being  the  hope  of  her  pity 
stirred,  giving  him  a  fevered  strength. 

She  was  so  silent — blessedly  silent,  it  seemed 
to  the  man  whose  spent  nature  had  reached  the 
acme  of  human  endurance,  and  which  needed  no 
word  to  brand  it  with  the  sense  of  its  guilt — yes, 
silent.  She  had  sunk  into  a  seat  at  his  first  words, 
and  her  chin  had  fallen  forward  on  her  breast. 
Her  lips  were  tightly  set,  her  hands  grasped  the 
arms  of  her  chair,  and  her  eyes  had  a  dull  fixity 
which  he  could  not  see  in  the  room's  deep  shadows. 

When  all  was  said  and  over,  however,  and  she 
still  failed  to  look  up,  or  speak,  or  make  a  gesture, 
a  new  fear  took  possession  of  his  racked  conscious- 
ness. He  noted  the  rigidity  of  her  attitude,  the  im- 
movableness  of  her  whole  person,  and  told  himself 
that  he  had  perhaps  killed  her — killed  her  as  he  had 
that  other  one  who  had  trusted  him  and  whom  he 
had  dishonored.  He  rose  to  his  feet  and  approached 
her,  overwhelmed  by  this  new  terror.  "  Perhaps," 
he  thought,  "I  am  speaking  to  a  corpse."  With 
this  terrible  suspicion  strong  upon  him  he  touched 
her  arm.  But  as  he  did  so  she,  too,  sprang  to  her 
feet,  and  he  saw  that  it  was  passionate  life,  not 


116  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

death,  that  quivered  in  her  limbs  and  distorted  her 
features.  She  faced  and  looked  at  him.  To  his 
dying  hour  that  look  will  haunt  Norwood's  memory. 
She  looked  at  him,  and,  raising  her  arms,  threw 
them  out  toward  him  as  if  she  would  have  struck 
him  upon  the  lips,  then  placing  her  hands  over  her 
ears  as  if  to  shut  out  some  hateful  sound,  she  sud- 
denly darted  from  him,  fleeing  away,  out,  anywhere 
only  away  from  him  ! 

There  was  a  large  table  at  the  entrance  of  the 
hall,  encumbered  with  coats,  wraps,  and  riding 
whips  ;  here  she  stopped.  She  dragged  a  long 
cloak  from  among  the  others,  which  she  fastened 
with  palsied  hands  by  its  silver  clasp  under  her 
chin.  She  turned  and  reached  down  a  little  fur 
cap  which  hung  upon  a  hat-rack  close  at  hand,  and 
then,  without  a  backward  glance,  she  rushed  away 
down  the  dim  pathway  into  the  windy  darkness. 
Stumbling  blindly  after  her,  Norwood  followed.  It 
was  gusty,  and  a  few  drops  of  rain  were  whipped 
against  his  face.  With  that  curious  force  small 
customs  impose  upon  us,  lie  remembered  that  she 
might  get  wet,  and  he  came  back  and  took  an  um- 
brella from  its  stand.  He  had  robbed  her  of  peace, 
of  a  simple  heart,  of  freshness  and  of  faith  ;  had 
taught  her  the  frightful  lesson  whose  fruits  are 
those  of  distrust,  of  cynicism,  possibly  of  crime  ; 
yet  his  native  gallantry  would  not  have  permitted 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  H7 

him  to  see  his  wife  rained  upon  without  solici- 
tude. 

When  he  reached  the  river-side  he  could  see  her 
just  flitting  before  him  like  a  lithe,  swaying  ghost 
under  the  glinting  of  the  flaring  lamps.  Her  light 
cloak  streamed  behind  her  on  the  gale,  but  she  made 
no  effort  to  gather  it  back  across  her  breast.  She 
was  almost  running  now,  and  even  to  keep  within 
sight  of  her  he  was  forced  to  greatly  quicken  his 
pace.  So  these  two  helpless,  hurrying  figures  tossed 
about  amid  the  wildness  of  the  unchained  elements, 
which  were  growing  more  and  more  turbulent. 
They  seemed  to  be  hastening  from  some  doom 
whose  whole  portent  they  had  not  yet  fathomed. 
When  he  had  gone  about  two  miles  it  rained  heavily. 

He  began  to  run  after  her,  so  that  he  was  soon 
beside  her. 

"  Paula,"  he  said  to  her  timidly,  "  you  will  get 
wet.  Take  this,"  and  he  offered  her  shelter.  "  I 
will  not  touch  you,"  he  added  sadly,  for  he  saw  her 
shrink  from  him. 

She  propped  herself  against  the  stone  parapet 
which  divided  the  road  from  the  gradient  bank. 
The  dead  fog  lay  dank  and  low  on  the  river.  Now 
and  then  a  melancholy  wail  blown  from  the  hoarse 
horn  of  some  belated  ship  pierced  the  silence  with 
its  warning.  The  distant  city  was  itself  sinking 
into  quiet  and  into  sleep. 


118  A   PURITAN  PAGAN. 

She  stood  defiantly  before  him,  her  face  aflame 
with  excitement,  her  luminous  eyes  distended  as 
they  met  his,  with  a  sort  of  terror.  lie  caught 
sight  at  that  moment  of  those  inner  pulsations  of 
another's  being  whose  flashes  are  so  rarely  revealed 
to  us,  and  it  went  through  him  that  he  had  never 
before  appreciated  her  beauty.  The  trees  over 
their  heads  bowed  and  groaned  like  dumb  creat- 
ures in  travail,  showering  their  moistures  over 
the  two  pale  upturned  faces,  and  now  she  spoke 
to  him : 

"  Dare  to  approach  me,"  she  said,  and  her  lips 
were  curled  in  ineffable  disgust  and  loathing — 
"dare  to  speak  to  me,  and  I  will  cast  myself  into 
that  dark  water  and  its  waves  will  blot  me  out  from 
your  sight  forever,  as  I  am  already  blotted  out  for- 
ever from  your  future  and  your  life.  In  a  few 
moments  I  will  reach  the  city.  If  you  attempt 
even  to  follow  me,  to  control  my  movements,  to  try 
to  discover  where  I  will  hide  myself,  I  will  call  the 
authorities  to  my  aid,  proclaim  you  what  you  are. 
You  shall  be  openly  degraded  in  the  public  streets. 
Now  you  have  heard — leave  me !  You  approach 
me  at  your  peril !  "  and  she  waved  him  away  with  a 
gesture  of  infinite  repugnance. 

He  bowed  his  head,  for  her  contempt  stung  his 
pride  to  the  quick. 

"  As  you  will,"  he  said  quietly.     "  You  have  the 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  H9 

right  to  trample  upon  and  insult  me ;  I  have  none 
to  your  leniency." 

When  the  mile  was  accomplished  that  brought 
them  into  the  outskirts  of  the  town — for  he  had 
still  followed  her,  although  at  a  wider  distance — he 
saw  her  call  a  cab  and  get  into  it.  Then  he  walked 
back  all  the  way  alone  through  the  storm  which 
now  raged  furiously. 

When  he  entered  the  deserted  house  he  rang  for 
Honora,  and  told  her  that  Mrs.  Sorchan  was  ill  and 
that  her  mistress  had  been  summoned  and  had  gone 
to  her.  He  then  went  to  his  study.  It  was  exactly 
as  they  had  left  it.  He  picked  up  Paula's  handker- 
chief which  had  fallen  near  the  chair  she  had  occu- 
pied, turned  it  over  in  his  fingers,  stroked  out  its 
creases,  folded  it  carefully  and  laid  it  under  a  book 
near  the  lamp.  He  piled  up  some  papers  and  put 
away  a  few  scattered  bills  which  were  straggling  over 
them.  He  then  sought  his  room.  Hope  was  dead. 
It  was  rather  a  relief  Yes,  it  was  a  relief — almost 
peace.  He  was  very  calm.  He  felt  drowsy.  He 
had  not  had  the  sensation  for  so  long,  so  long.  He 
went  to  his  room,  I  say,  and  he  began  to  undress. 
"  Yes,  that  was  well  done,"  he  said  to  himself,  pull- 
ing off  his  boots.  The  mud  fell  from  them  in 
pieces.  It  had  left  its  wet  stains  upon  the  carpet 
under  his  feet  wherever  he  had  trodden.  He  took 
them  and  placed  them  outside  of  his  door  as  usual. 


120  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

When  he  had  thrown  himself  on  the  bed  at  last  he 
had  no  further  thought  of  all  that  had  happened, 
none.  He  stretched  out  his  long  limbs  between  the 
sheets.  The  bed  was  good  ;  it  offered  coolness  and 
rest.  This  was  what  he  wanted.  Oh !  he  was  so 
tired,  so  tired.  Coolness,  rest!  He  slept  a  long, 
dreamless  sleep,  the  first  which  had  visited  for 
months  his  red  and  swollen  eyelids. 

Mrs.  Sorchan  sat  up  late.  She  had  reached  the 
age  when  sleep  has  to  be  wooed.  She  often  re- 
mained until  after  midnight  reading  in  her  li- 
brary. It  was  a  pleasant,  cheerful  room  upon  her 
second  floor  and  adjoining  her  bed-chamber.  It  was 
situated  at  the  back  of  the  house  and  was  there- 
fore a  safe  retreat.  Even  the  sound  of  the  door- 
bell and  of  disturbing  carriage  wheels  failed  to 
reach  its  remoteness.  It  was  hung  with  soft  crim- 
son stuff,  and  the  curtains  and  carpet  \vere  of  the 
same  rich  tones.  Its  walls  were  lined  with  low 
book-shelves  well  filled  with  her  favorite  authors, 
and  above  them  hung  a  few  fine  pictures.  Here 
her  tea  table  stood  close  to  a  bright  wood  fire,  with 
its  old-fashioned  silver  salver  and  its  thin  china 
cups.  It  was  here  that  she  generally  took  her  cup 
of  tea  at  five  o'clock  and  here  that  she  passed  her 
evenings  when  she  was  quite  alone.  The  drawing- 
room  was  tpo  large,  and  she  preferred  this  warm 
and  cosy  nook  when  she  had  no  visitors.  This 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  121 

evening  she  had  found  a  particularly  enticing  book. 
Like  people  whose  own  lives  have  been  uneventful, 
she  had  a  great  love  for  works  of  fiction,  and  even 
preferred  those  which  dealt  in  incident  and  plot  to 
such  as  gave  an  introspective  study  of  human  feel- 
ing. She  was  a  woman  of  kind  sympathies  who 
had  seen  a  good  deal  of  others'  sufferings,  and  she 
liked  to  find  in  books,  distraction  and  amusement, 
and  not  the  darker  aspects  of  life.  Upon  the  har- 
mony of  this  calm  interior  of  widowed  resignation 
and  middle-aged  content  suddenly  was  thrown  a  dis- 
sonant note,  a  note  of  Youth's  protest  and  revolt,  a 
note  of  anger,  of  despair  and  of  passion. 

With  streaming  garments  and  hair  wet  and 
tangled,  with  fear  in  her  eyes  and  dismay  in  the 
droop  of  her  shoulders,  as  Mrs.  Sorchan  looked  up, 
Paula  stood  upon  the  threshold.  I  regret  to  state 
that  all  that  the  older  lady  could  find  to  jerk  out 
were  the  two  insufficient  words  "  Good  gracious ! " 
hardly,  it  must  be  conceded,  fitting  to  the  occasion. 
But  it  must  be  remembered  that  she  was  not  yet  at- 
tuned to  the  new  key.  The  passage  from  the 
placid  satisfactions  of  the  major  to  the  unfilled  cry 
of  the  minor  needs  often  to  be  bridged  by  discord- 
ant semi-tones. 

"  Aunt  Amy,"  said  Paula  solemnly,  still  stand- 
ing in  the  doorway,  "  Aunt  Amy,  I  am  homeless." 

"  Good  gracious ! "  again  ejaculated   Mrs.    Sor- 


122  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

chan,  "  and  wet  through,  too.  What  in  the  world ! 
Why,  child,  did  you  walk  in  ? " 

"  I  walked — I  ran  nearly  all  the  way,"  said 
Paula,  breathlessly. 

"  Well ! "  said  her  aunt.  She  came  quickly  for- 
ward and  began  to  unfasten  her  niece's  cloak, 
which  fell  with  a  wet  plash  to  the  floor.  She  also 
helped  her  to  remove  her  fur  cap  and  passed  her 
pretty  hand  twice  over  the  young  woman's  damp 
hair. 

"  Quarreled  with  your  husband,  eh  ? "  and 
Paula  was  penetrated  by  two  small,  gray,  inquiring 
eyes. 

The  girl  bent  her  head,  which  remained  upon 
her  breast  as  if  she  had  no  strength  or  desire  ever 
to  again  lift  it  with  its  weight  of  humiliation. 

"  Well,  well !  Come  to  the  fire,  warm  your- 
self," said  her  aunt.  "  Will  you  have  some  tea  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Paula,  shivering.  "  I  am  cold,  I 
am  thirsty." 

No  servant  was  needed.  Everything  was  there, 
the  dainty  tea-caddy,  even  the  cream  which  had 
been  brought  up  at  ten  o'clock  for  the  mistress's 
evening  cup.  Mrs.  Sorchan  struck  a  match  and  re- 
lit the  kettle  which  was  half  full  of  water.  Any- 
thing is  better  than  the  first  plunge  into  the  chilling 
waves  of  explanation.  Mrs.  Sorchan  was  a  bit  cow- 
ardly ;  she  was  hugging  the  shore,  a  shore  of  shift- 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  123 

ing  quicksands  which  must  soon  sink  and  submerge 
them  both. 

"  Aunt  Amy,"  said  Paula,  "  I  have  left  Nor- 
wood forever." 

She  was  sitting  now  on  a  low  stool  near  the  fire, 
its  glow  on  her  face,  her  hands  convulsively  clasped 
together  across  her  knees. 

"  Then  I'm  afraid  you've  made  a  great  fool  of 
yourself,"  said  her  aunt,  who  had  seated  herself 
close  to  her  in  a  deep  arm-chair. 

The  girl  looked  up  and  the  older  woman  read 
something  in  those  dumb  eyes  which  made  her 
move  her  own  uneasily  from  their  survey. 

"  What  is  it  then  ? "  she  asked  huskily. 

"  The  reason  will  never  leave  my  heart,"  said 
Paula. 

But  Mrs.  Sorchan  did  not  heed  this  assertion. 

"  Has  he  been  cross,  cruel  to  you  ? " 

Paula  did  not  answer. 

"  Has  he  stolen,  forged  ?  Anything  like  that  ? 
Oh,  I  dare  say.  I  shall  not  be  in  the  least  surprised. 
It's  the  decent  men  that  do  it  nowadays." 

"  No." 

"  Is  it  ...  is  it  ...  another  woman  ? " 

Then  those  honest  lips  told  their  first  lie. 

"No,"  said  Paula. 

With  the  positiveness  with  which  certain  ideas 
and  purposes  fasten  themselves  upon  highly  wrought 


124  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

natures  Paula  had,  during  that  dreadful  drive,  for- 
mulated but  one  plan  of  action.  It  possessed  her 
now  with  its  intense  insistence  :  No  one  must  know. 
"I  can  bear  anything,  everything  but  that,"  she 
said  to  herself.  "  If  it  is  known  I  shall  kill  myself." 
So  now  she  told  her  lie  ;  that  lie  that  she  decided 
should  save  her  pride,  aye,  if  even  at  the  cost  of  her 
own  good  fame. 

Mrs.  Sorchan's  hands  fell  into  her  lap,  and  she 
gave  a  short  gasp.  Horrid  possibilities  began  to 
press  upon  her. 

"  Good  Heavens ! "  thought  Mrs.  Sorchan.  "  My 
poor  Paula !  What  has  the  man  done  ?  What 
abominable  thing  ? "  and  her  heart  stood  still.  But 
when  she  remembered  Norwood's  fine  and  manly 
bearing,  his  clear  eye,  his  frank  laugh,  his  bold 
step,  his  reputation  for  honor  and  integrity,  she 
shook  her  head  distraught. 

"  Paula,"  she  said  to  her  niece,  making  a  sud- 
den and  a  wise  resolve,  "  Paula,  keep  your  secrets. 
I'll  urge  you  no  further  to  divulge.  You  are,  per- 
haps, right.  A  woman  should  never  raise  the  veil 
of  her  married  life,  only,"  she  added,  with  an  ex- 
piring severity,  "  remember  that  if  it's  all  folly 
you'll  find  no  sympathy  with  me." 

Then  the  poor,  lonely,  bruised  heart  broke.  She 
sank  on  her  knees  and  buried  her  head  in  her  aunt's 
gown.  "  Don't  turn  me  out,  Aunt  Amy  ;  don't 


A  PURITAN   PAGAN.  125 

cast  me  away  from  you  into  the  streets.  I've 
got  no  one  else,  no  one,  than  you  to  come  to  in 
my  misery,"  and  she  writhed  to  and  fro,  racked 
with  her  sobbings,  clinging  with  outstretched  arms 
to  Mrs.  Sorchan's  limbs.  In  a  moment  she  had 
been  drawn  up  upon  a  loving  and  kind  heart,  and 
words  of  sweet  comfort  were  being  poured  into 
her  frightened  ears.  The  older  woman  held  her 
close,  rocking  her  like  an  infant  on  her  breast,  with 
gentle  cooings  of  pity  and  consolation. 

"  There,  there,  my  dear  one !  My  little  Paula. 
Let  me  wipe  the  tears — so — there,  my  Paula.  My 
home  is  yours.  It's  lonely  enough,  and  I  am  glad 
to  keep  you.  Glad,  child  !  Do  you  hear  me  ? "  and 
then  the  tea-kettle  boiled  over  and  Mrs.  Sorchan 
held  the  warm,  soothing  cup  to  those  exhausted  lips. 


CHAPTER  X. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  Paula  found  refuge. 
Through  one  brief  interview  between  Mrs.  Sorchan 
and  Norwood — the  young  wife  resolutely  refused  to 
see  her  husband — all  arrangements  were  definitely 
settled.  There  was  to  be  separation,  but  no  divorce. 
Only  on  condition,  however,  that  the  truth  should 
never  be  made  known,  for,  if  ever  it  came  to  light 
and  credence,  Paula  would  instantly  seek  legal  re- 
dress and  insist  upon  absolute  freedom.  Was  this 
clause  on  her  part  unmagnanimous,  unworthy,  see- 
ing she  had  left  the  man  and  he  was  henceforth  a 
stranger  to  her  ?  Had  she  the  fear  that  in  a  Quix- 
otic moment,  born  of  his  loneliness  and  remorse, 
he  might  take  the  child — the  other  woman's — and 
harbor  it  ?  And  was  there  a  certain  jealousy  of  it 
and  of  him — of  one  who  was  to  her  henceforth  an 
object  of  disgust  and  of  contempt  ? 

A  woman's  heart  is  an  abyss.  Nineteenth  cent- 
ury heroines  are  proverbially  imperfect.  This  dole 
of  secrecy  was  surely  no  great  hostage  for  her  out- 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  127 

raged  heart  to  demand.  It  was  for  him  to  see  that 
the  terrible  secret  was  kept.  Norwood  expressed  a 
desire  to  share  with — nay,  give  her  the  larger  part 
of  his  income,  but  this  she  resolutely  refused.  Her 
dog  and  her  horse  were  sent  back  to  her,  with  fami- 
ly portraits  and  silver  and  such  things  as  had  be- 
longed to  her  parents. 

"  I  presume  you  will  sell  the  old  house,"  said 
Mrs.  Sorchan  to  Norwood  coldly,  but  not  without  a 
little  natural  movement  of  curiosity. 

"  No,"  said  Norwood  shortly ;  "  the  house  is 
mine.  I  keep  it.  I  shall  live  there." 

Mrs.  Sorchan  opened  astonished  eyes,  but  said 
nothing  more.  Honora  came  to  her  mistress,  but 
she  was  old,  and  she  concluded  to  return  and  end 
her  days  in  the  South  with  a  brother  who  was  well 
off  and  had  sent  for  her.  Paula  engaged  a  French 
maid  in  the  place  of  her  old  nurse.  The  wrench 
was  not  what  it  once  would  have  been.  It  was  as 
well.  All  was  to  be  new ;  why  not  new  faces  also  ? 
Nothing  again  could  ever  be  very  bad ;  not  worse 
than  the  dull  ache  the  soldier  feels  in  the  limb  he 
has  left  on  the  battle-field.  The  other  servants 
were  tacitly  made  to  understand  that  there  had 
been  a  quarrel.  So  much,  of  course,  had  to  be 
admitted.  Then  they  were  given  their  option  as 
to  leaving  or  remaining.  The  women  had  the 
usual  idolatry  of  the  female  domestic  for  the  "mas- 


128  A   PURITAN   PAGAN. 

ter."  They  decided  that  Miss  Paula  had  been  over 
hasty,  and  probably  foolish,  and  hoped  that  there 
was  a  good  time  coming  when  the  breach  would 
be  finally  filled  up.  They  concluded  to  remain 
with  Norwood. 

"Only  fancy,"  said  Mrs.  Joyce's  daughter  one 
day  to  some  friends  at  her  mother's  house — "  only 
fancy !  They  say  Paula  Sorchan  has  left  her  hus- 
band." 

"  What  !  That  handsome  fellow  2  "  said  the 
Cousin  Nelly  who  had  been  to  Paula's  wedding, 
who  was  still  a  "  Miss,"  less  fashionable  now, 
and  did  not  enjoy  it.  "  She  must  be  a  wicked 
woman.  I,  for  one,  never  liked  her." 

"  Yes,"  said  a  visitor,  "  I  heard  she  came  down 
to  breakfast  one  day  and  just  said  to  him,  '  I  am 
tired  of  the  sight  of  you,'  and  marched  out  of  the 
house,  carrying  away  a  great  deal  of  the  furniture ; 
actually  had  the  effrontery  to  send  up  a  large  van 
to  have  all  the  best  things  carted  to  her  aunt's,  leav- 
ing the  poor  man  almost  on  the  straw — yes — the 
straw !  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure,  what  the  world  is 
coming  to,  the  way  the  married  women  are  go- 
ing on ! " 

"  Anything  is  better  than  being  an  old  maid," 
said  Mrs.  Joyce's  daughter,  less  irrelevantly  than  it 
might  be  supposed,  since  she  was  paying  up  old 
scores — she  was  herself  now  a  married  woman — 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  129 

"  I'd  rather  have  a  husband  who  dragged  me  about 
by  the  hair  than  none  at  all." 

"  That's  easy  enough  for  you  to  say,"  retorted 
Nelly  tartly,  who,  nevertheless,  in  her  secret  heart, 
thought  a  husband  extremely  desirable — "  you,  who 
drag  yours  about  by  the  nose." 

"  As  to  the  straw,"  said  Mrs.  Joyce,  "  that's 
hardly  credible ;  I  have  heard  he  was  rich." 

"Oh,  well,  it's  a  way  of  speaking.  Norwood 
was  always  kind  and  gentle  to  his  wife,  I  am  sure, 
but  the  daughter  of  that  free-thinking,  godless  Sor- 
chan  probably  had  emancipated  ideas  of  duty  and 
moral  obligations,  what  could  one  expect  ? "  said  the 
visitor. 

"  My  friend  Paul  Sorchan,"  and  the  Professor 
loomed  across  the  threshold,  "  was  a  benefactor  to 
the  human  race.  If  he  doubted  that  there  is  a 
heaven  above  us  I  am  sure  that  he  has  been  pleas- 
antly surprised  to  find  himself  there  sooner  than 
any  of  the  rest  of  us.  I,  for  one,  am  indeed  sorry 
if  trouble  or  sorrow  have  come  to  his  child." 

The  male  dignity  of  this  utterance  threw  these 
female  flutterers  into  quick  disarray  and  rout. 

Even  Mrs.  Sorchan  sometimes  wondered,  as  was 
indeed  to  be  expected,  if  her  niece  had  not  been 
willful,  obstinate,  unforgiving.  So  Paula's  small 
world,  which  thought  it  knew  her  best,  judged  her 
less  leniently  than  should  that  larger  one  into  which 


130  A   PURITAN   PAGAN. 

she  was  soon  to  be  absorbed.  Such  anomalies  are 
not  infrequent  We  may  be  too  near  an  object  to 
judge  it  clearly. 

When  the  summer  came,  Mrs.  Sorchan  and 
Paula  went  to  the  sea.  They  hired  a  pretty  cot- 
tage close  to  a  surf-washed  coast,  which  was  dotted 
with  the  residences  of  people  who  passed  the  warm- 
er months  here,  some  of  whom  had  larger  country- 
seats  elsewhere,  or  sought  the  world  of  Newport  for 
a  part  of  a  gayer  season.  Mrs.  Sorchan  and  Paula 
crossing  the  river  to  meet  their  train  found  them- 
selves upon  the  boat  in  proximity  to  a  party  of 
people  who  were  conversing  loudly  together  in  Ger- 
man. There  were  one  or  two  men,  a  woman,  and 
some  children.  A  large  man  from  among  them, 
who  towered  over  the  others,  espied  Mrs.  Norwood, 
looked  hard  at  her,  made  a  step  forward  and  lifted 
his  hat.  It  was  Dr.  Krupp.  Paula  raised  her  head 
haughtily  and  turned  her  back  to  him.  Under  the 
direct  cut  a  purple  choleric  color  mounted  to  his 
forehead. 

In  the  train  which  was  conveying  them  to  their 
new  home  they  met  another  person,  who  exerted 
from  that  day  forward  a  marked  influence  upon 
Paula's  destiny.  I  think  we  can  count,  usually, 
upon  the  fingers  of  one  hand  the  people  who  really 
affect  our  growth,  modify  our  opinions,  or  sway  our 
faith.  In  the  flux  and  reflux  of  the  living  throng, 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  131 

in  the  crowded  thoroughfare  of  existence,  how  few 
really  arrest  us  for  a  moment !  and  they  are  often 
such  as  we  shall  pass  but  seldom,  rarely  those  who 
accompany  us  on  our  daily  walks. 

The  meeting  of  which  I  speak  was  in  this  wise : 
The  train  was  overcrowded.  Our  ladies  had  desired 
to  find  seats  in  the  larger  car,  but  were,  perforce, 
relegated  to  a  compartment  which  looked  already 
full  to  them  as  they  were  jostled  through  the  door- 
way by  a  porter.  It  proved  to  contain,  however, 
two  or  three  empty  places.  It  was  occupied  by  a 
lady,  two  young  boys,  and  a  gentleman.  Paula  did 
not  look  at  these  people  at  first,  sunk  as  she  always 
was  now  in  her  own  sad  reflections.  But  the  lady 
not  only  looked  at  her,  but  gazed  intently  and  with 
a  certain  curiosity  at  the  grave  profile,  proud  and  so 
sternly  sombre,  whose  delicate  outlines  were  clearly 
visible  to  her  against  the  window's  white  square, 
glimmeringly  illumined  by  the  splendors  of  a  de- 
parting day. 

"Where,  where,"  thought  the  lady,  "have  I 
seen  that  face  before  ?  " 

She  turned  so  often  toward  Paula  with  this 
observing  query  in  her  expression  that  at  last  the 
gentleman,  who  seemed  engrossed  with  her  and 
with  nothing  else,  waxed  a  trifle  impatient. 

"  What  do  you  see  out  of  that  window  which 
makes  you  so  distraite,  Mrs.  Heathcote  ? "  he  asked. 


132  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

The  lady  did  not  answer  him,  but  at  the  ques- 
tion Paula  had  started  from  her  revery  and  their 
eyes  had  met  in  a  mutual  recognition.  Paula 
blushed,  for  ...  it  was  the  "  Princess."  And 
very  like  a  princess,  too,  with  her  charming  figure 
caught  tightly  in  its  blue  cloth  gown,  dainty  and 
rich,  and  her  graceful  head  surmounted  by  her 
black  Eenaissance  hat,  which  projected  a  shadow 
over  the  upper  part  of  her  lovely  face.  A  costly 
wrap  matching  her  costume  had  fallen  from  her 
shoulders.  Her  black  lace  parasol  with  its  quaint 
silver  handle  lay  on  the  seat  opposite.  From  be- 
neath her  dress  a  daintily  shod  foot  exhibited  a 
glimpse  of  azure  stocking.  Paula  returned  her 
glances  with  a  half-smile,  and  then,  embarrassed, 
she  quickly  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  the  lady 
at  her  escort. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  he  answered,  "  I  only  desired  to  know 
what  it  was  just  beyond  me  that  arrested  your 
attention.  It  always  is  something  beyond,  out 
of  reach,  often  out  of  sight,  that  rivets  your 
thoughts." 

The  boys  had  gone  out  into  the  passage,  where 
they  were  engaged  in  an  animated  discussion  with 
the  colored  porter  as  to  the  relative  merits  and 
speed  of  this  particular  train  and  one  they  had 
once  tested  upon  the  other  shore,  whose  engineer 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  133 

had  volunteered  a  race  and  had  been  altogether 
far  more  enterprising  and  delightful, 

Mrs.  Heathcote  laughed.  "  What  nonsense ! 
when  you  know  perfectly  well  that  I  am  the 
healthiest-minded  being  alive,  and  the  sanest." 

"  I  dare  say  you  are  healthy,  and  I  have  no 
method  of  gauging  your  sanity.  I  only  know 
you  are  a  woman  of  the  day,  frightfully  modern, 
and  hence  difficult  to  interest,  to  understand  or 
to  suit." 

He  spoke  lightly,  but  there  was  a  shade  of 
bitterness  in  his  tone. 

"  Why,  what  mystery  can  there  be  about  me  ?  " 

"  I  have  often  asked  myself  that  question ! 
That  a  person  who  has  no  secrets  the  world  can 
babble  of  should  still  strike  one  as  so  unknowable 
and  mysterious  as  yourself  is  a  proof  of  some 
hidden  life  we  know  not  of,  or  ...  of  genius." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  a  woman  of  the  day  ? 
I  am  nearly  old  enough  to  be  of  yesterday,"  she 
said  evasively. 

"  It  is  my  turn  now  to  say,  *  What  nonsense ! ' 
But  you  know  as  well  as  I  could  tell  you  all  about 
the  women  of  this  day  and  this  country." 

"  I  do  not  know  women  at  all." 

"  Haven't  men  taught  you  something  about 
your  own  sex  ?  Intellects  have  sex,  but  not  hearts, 
and  these  have  been  so  bared  to  you." 


134  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  You  are  begging  the  question,"  she  answered. 
"  You  are  too  personal  now.  It's  bad  taste." 

"  Shall  I  describe  to  you  your  prototype,  one  of 
your  sisters  ? " 

"  Pray  do.     It  will  be  amusing." 

"  That's  just  it — amusing !  To  be  amused !  Tell 
me  frankly,  Mrs.  Heathcote,  which  do  you  prefer, 
to  be  happy  or  to  be  amused  2 " 

"  I  like  to  be  interested,"  said  the  Princess. 

The  gentleman  she  addressed  was  a  man  of 
middle  age,  slightly  bald  and  inclining  to  stout- 
ness. Across  his  aquiline  nose  he  wore  eyeglasses, 
through  which  peered  a  pair  of  sarcastic,  keen, 
bright  eyes.  He  was  plainly  dressed,  but  with 
scrupulous  care  and  even  elegance.  His  whole 
person  exhaled  an  indescribable  aroma  of  the 
world.  He  gave  one  the  impresson  of  having  seen 
and  tasted  a  little  of  everything ;  that  intangible 
Freemasonary  felt  the  more  determinantly  because 
it  can  not  be  explained  and  is  impracticable  to  imi- 
tate. He  was  evidently  a  dexterous  talker,  and 
although  the  conversation  was  carried  on  in  very 
low  tones,  not  in  whispers — Mrs.  Heathcote  would 
not  have  deigned  to  whisper  in  a  public  place ;  she 
would  have  thought  it  as  ill-bred  as  over-loudness 
— Paula  suddenly  found  herself  listening  with  a 
strained  and  almost  painful  eagerness.  Starving 
persons  are  proverbially  indifferent  to  the  quality 


A   PURITAN  PAGAN.  135 

of  the  viands  set  before  them.  Her  famine-stricken 
soul,  with  its  obsession  of  thought,  whose  beginning 
and  end  was  darkness,  was  ready  to  hearken  with 
avidity  to  any  words  which  might  be  found  to  illu- 
mine past  or  present  experience.  In  her  egotistic 
pain  the  poor  child  was  ever  now  on  the  alert  for 
an  answer  to  its  eternal  problems.  Who  knew ! 
Perhaps  these  two  people  whom  she  intuitively  felt 
to  be  wise  in  things  whereof  she  was  ignorant 
might  hold  the  key  of  life's  cruelties. 

"  You  like  to  be  interested  !  Ay,  and  the  man 
who  has  failed  to  do  this  may  go  about  his  busi- 
ness. '  Come  with  me,'  says  the  modern  Adolphus 
to  his  Yanessa,  '  come,  my  beloved !  Dost  thou 
not  see  that  the  twilight  is  nigh  ?  Come  and  walk 
hand  in  hand  with  me  in  the  meadows,  amid  the 
grasses.  See  how  they  bow  to  do  thy  beauty 
homage!  Come  with  me  near  to  the  cool  sea 
water !  Come,  and  let  us  love  ! ' 

"  But  Yanessa  answers  a  trifle  sharply.  '  Yes, 
dearest  Adolphus,  in  a  minute.  But  I  have  a  letter, 
a  wonderful  letter  from  the  other  side  of  the  wide 
seas  of  which  you  speak.  Cynthia  writes  me  of 
her  triumphs.  She  has  sung,  and  a  hundred 
stopped  to  listen  and  applaud;  she  has  painted, 
and  they  awarded  a  medal  and  a  prize,  and  the 
Prince  took  her  hand  and  gave  her  a  rose.  Wait, 
dear,  that  I  finish  the  letter.  Its  joy  gains  me. 


136  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

When  I  can  no  longer  see  to  read  then  I  will  come 
to  thee.' 

"'Nay,  nay,'  says  Adolphus  plaintively,  'put 
up  the  foolish  Cynthia's  letter.  Come  with  me 
into  the  fields,  come  !  Let  us  love  I '  and  she 
goes. 

"  But  once  in  the  open — '  Where  is  that  bird 
flying,  dear  Adolphus,  with  its  silver  wings  and  its 
bright  breast,  where  ?  Would  that  I,  too,  might 
soar  upon  its  pinions — be  lost  and  swallowed  in 
that  distant  azure  through  which  it  speeds ! ' 

"'Nay,  nay,  my  beloved.  Look  not  at  the 
birdling ;  look  at  thy  beloved,  look  at  me.  Let 
us  love ! ' 

"  '  And  that  ship  which  sails  far  over  the  waves, 
that  beautiful,  brave  ship,  Adolphus !  See  how 
she  rises  and  sinks  upon  the  horizen !  See  how 
she  seems  to  beckon  and  to  promise  !  O  God,  that 
I,  too,  were  pacing  her  proud  decks  !  That  I,  too, 
might  be  seeking  a  wider  sphere  away  from  these 
tiresome  narrow  walks  full  of  these  silly  daisies  and 
useless  buttercups  ! ' 

"  '  Nay,  my  adored  one  ;  look  not  at  the  ships. 
What  are  the  ships  to  thee  and  to  me  ?  Look  not 
at  the  ships !  Look  at  me ! ' 

"  Then  the  modern  Yanessa  turns  and  gazes  at 
her  Adolphus ;  gazes  at  him  with  a  curiosity  tinged 
with  weariness,  and  then  she  says  to  him : 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  137 

" '  Yes,  yes,  dear  Adolphus ;  but  tell  ine,  who 
art  thou,  and  what  is  love  ? ' 

"  '  I  am  thy  love,  and  to  love  is  happiness.' 

"  She  shrugs  her  shoulders  and  moves  away. 

"  '  Ah,  perhaps.  Happiness  !  didst  thou  say  ? 
Pah !  "What  is  happiness  ? ' 

"  '  Happiness  is  .  .  .  is  .  .  . ' 

"  But  she  has  left  him  and  he  hears  her  murmur, 
'  Happiness !  love  !  Who  wants  these  ?  They  are 
but  playthings  for  men  and  fools  and  children. 
I  want  to  know,  I  want  to  learn,  I  want  to  see. 
I  want  light,  color,  air,  breadth,  wisdom,  wealth, 
power.  I  want  the  world — and  thou  pratest  to  me 
of  happiness  and  of  love  !  They  are  idle  folly  and 
elusive.  They  are  tame,  dull  at  the  best.  Give 
me  what  I  want  or  I  die  !  ": 

The  Princess  threw  back  her  head  and  gave  a 
laugh  which  was  dissipated  in  a  sigh,  and  Paula 
saw  again  upon  her  lips  that  sadness  which  she 
had  observed  before  when  this  lady  was  but  a 
dream  to  her. 

"Ah!  Mr.  Ackley,"  she  said,  shaking  her 
head,  "you  make  me  wish  to  laugh  as  well  as  to 
weep  ;  yet  depend  upon  it  your  Vanessa  is  quite 
right  after  all.  What  can  be  more  monstrous 
than  for  two  beings  to  pass  their  lives  contemplat- 
ing one  another ;  cramped  into  feebleness  and 
sordid  ease  in  a  wide  infinite  world  where  man's 


138  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

little  life  straggles  against  cruel  animosities,  re- 
coils before  horrid  dangers  ?  " 

At  this  moment  a  violent  jerk  threw  the  occu- 
pants of  the  compartment  almost  upon  each  other, 
awakening  Mrs.  Sorchan  harshly  from  a  pleasant 
nap.  The  boys,  followed  by  their  German  tutor 
and  a  maid,  ran  in  from  the  other  car,  where  there 
was  a  momentary  tumult  of  wonder  and  conster- 
nation. Mr.  Ackley  went  out  with  some  of  the 
other  male  passengers  to  see  what  had  occurred. 
It  was  nothing  more  serious  than  a  car  oif  the 
track.  Some  slight  damage,  however,  had  been 
done,  and  there  would  be  a  few  moment's  delay, 
and  during  this  delay  the  women  spoke  to  each 
other. 

"  It  is  so  provoking,"  said  the  Princess.  "  We 
are  already  late.  It  is  invariably  so  on  this  hateful 
road." 

"Do  you  go  to  East  Brompton?"  asked  Mrs. 
Sorchan. 

"  Yes.     Do  you  ? " 

"  We  have  taken  a  cottage  there,"  said  Paula. 

"Ah,  really!  I  go  down  there  to  get  out  of 
the  crowd  and  have  some  decent  bathing.  WTe 
have  a  little  box  there  ourselves,  where  I  take  my 
children  for  a  couple  of  months.  Col.  Heathcote 
went  down  yesterday."  Then  after  a  short  pause 
the  Princess  said  boldly,  with  her  charming  smile 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  139 

as  accompaniment,  looking  at  Paula,  "  Do  tell  me 
where  I  have  seen  you  before  ? " 

"  I  have  known  you  by  sight  since  I  was  a  little 
child,"  said  Paula. 

"No?     Fancy!" 

"  Yes.  I  have  seen  you  often,  often  on  the 
Riverside." 

"  Ah !  "  said  the  Princess.  "  Now  I  remember 
you  perfectly.  I  saw  you  once  cross  the  road 
when  I  was  driving  slowly  by,  and  I  have  noticed 
you  before  on  your  lawn  under  the  trees.  And  so 
it  is  you  who  live  in  that  darling  old  house  2  I 
have  always  wondered  who  it  belonged  to." 

"I  used  to  live  there,"  replied  Paula  shortly, 
and  the  Princess,  who  was  quick-witted,  thought 
that  she  noticed  a  moment's  uneasiness,  a  faint 
warning  in  Mrs.  Sorchan's  eyes,  a  slight  depre- 
cating gesture  as  if  to  say,  "that  ground  is  dan- 
gerous." 

The  name  of  Heathcote  was  not  unknown  to  the 
Sorchan  ladies.  They  had  often  heard  and  read  of 
Colonel  Heathcote,  who  was  a  great  financier,  and  as 
well  known  for  his  keen  interest  in  politics,  in  mili- 
tary affairs,  and  in  philanthropic  enterprises  as  was 
Mrs.  Heathcote  as  a  queen  of  the  social  world,  only 
in  her  seclusion  Paula  had  not  guessed  that  Mrs. 
Heathcote  and  her  Princess  were  one.  Before  they 
reached  their  destination  Mrs.  Heathcote  had  been 


14:0  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

timidly  told  her  sobriquet  and  bad  asked  Paula  ber 
own  name. 

"  I  am  Mrs.  Norwood,"  she  replied.  "  Paul 
Sorchan's  daugbter." 

"  Paul  Sorcban's  daugbter  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Heatbcote.  "  That  is  indeed  a  brevet  of  nobility." 

"  She  is  very  interesting,"  she  said  later,  driving 
homeward  through  the  sand  in  the  low  beach  wagon 
in  which  she  and  Mr.  Ackley  and  one  of  her  boys 
had  found  room.  "  She  is  very  interesting,  and  to 
be  interested  is  what  you  say  we  all  desire.  Her 
name  is  Norwood.  Where  do  you  suppose  the  hus- 
band is?" 

"  I  have  met  Norwood,"  said  Mr.  Ackley,  "  al- 
though I  know  him  but  slightly.  He  is  a  very 
clever  fellow,  rising  to  great  prominence  in  his  pro- 
fession, and  now  I  remember  I  have  heard  some 
queer  story  to  the  effect  that  his  wife  had  left 
him." 

"No!" 

"Yes,  and  they  said  for  no  particular  reason. 
Got  bored,  or,  presumedly,  wanted  the  bird  or  the 
ship.  I  can  well  believe  it  o-f  her.  She  looks  like  a 
fire-eater." 

""What!  That  modest,  simple,  dreamy,  impul- 
sive girl  ? " 

"  How  do  you  know  she's  impulsive?" 

"  Don't  you    suppose    I    know    these   things  ? 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  141 

She's  all  impulse.  She's  charming.  Depend  upon 
it,  it's  his  fault. 

"  That's  exactly  what  I  said  :  he  bored  her. 
Men  are  bores.  I  am  one  myself.  Nowadays  that 
is  sufficient  cause  for  separation,  and  I  think  you 
women  are  quite  right.  I  am  with  you  every  time." 

"  You  are  incorrigible ! "  and  just  then  they 
drew  up  at  the  gate. 

A  broad,  tall,  military-looking  man  with  iron- 
gray  hair  and  thick  eyebrows  came  down  the  path- 
way to  receive  the  travelers.  He  met  his  wife  with 
formal  courtesy,  kissing  her  hand  with  a  low  in- 
clination. "  Welcome  home,"  he  said. 

"  Did  you  ever  know  Paul  Sorchan  ?  "  she  asked 
of  him  later  at  dinner. 

"  Not  personally.  Every  one  has  heard  of 
him." 

"Well,  his  daughter  is  our  next-door  neighbor. 
What  fools  we  are  never  to  know  such  people. 
Why,  he's  world-renowned.  Where  do  they  keep 
themselves  ? " 

"  They  keep  themselves,"  said  Mr.  Ackley  with 
his  caustic  smile,  "in  the  purlieus  of  an  outer  dark- 
ness with  three  millions  of  their  townspeople  where 
privileged  ones  who  dance  in  the  sun  can  hardly  be 
expected  to  follow  or  to  find  them." 

"  Pshaw ! "  said  the  Princess. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

PAULA  had  imagined  herself  incapable,  since — 
she  did  not  trust  herself  to  elucidate  further — of 
even  a  flitting  gleam  of  pleasurable  emotion,  yet 
she  was  distinctly  conscious  of  an  agreeable,  nay, 
of  a  certain  cheerful  excitement  at  having  at  last 
grappled  with  her  ideal — met  her  Princess  face  to 
face.  How  exquisite  she  was  to  be  sure !  As 
perfect  as  her  fancy  had  pictured,  and  how  un- 
changed !  Her  vicinity  seemed  to  cast  a  certain 
halo  of  romance  over  the  low-roofed  Queen  Anne 
cottage,  which,  it  must  be  confessed,  appeared 
somewhat  "  stuffy "  to  the  two  women  accus- 
tomed to  large,  generous  and  convenient  quarters. 

As  Paula  leaned  out  of  her  narrow  casement, 
looking  away  over  sand  dunes  which  sluiced  the 
ocean  reaches  into  tiny  canals  and  mimic  lakes,  to 
a  desolate  horizon,  her  sad  reveries  were  shaken 
by  this  new  element  of  interest.  She  had  that 
strong  love  of  the  sea,  of  its  unrest  and  infinitude 
which  lies,  a  germ,  in  every  imaginative,  unsatisfied 


.    A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  143 

creature,  and  she  thought  to  herself  that  she  would 
like  to  pass  hours  wandering  alone  on  this  lonely 
coast  where  she  might,  unmolested,  give  full  play 
to  the  morbid  breedings  which  now  formed  the 
background  of  her  every  meditation.  It  was  al- 
most disturbing  to  find  that  across  her  pathway 
this  radiant  vision  had  stepped.  "Ah!  but,"  she 
thought,  "  I  have  found  her  too  late."  She  was 
torn  between  her  forceful  desire  to  be  absolutely 
miserable  and  her  romantic  admiration  for  her  new 
neighbor.  She  was  surprised  to  find  herself  won- 
dering whether  Mrs.  Heathcote  would  seek  a  con- 
tinuance of  the  acquaintance. 

Mrs.  Heathcote  not  only  did  so,  calling  upon 
Mrs.  Sorchan  and  her  niece  almost  immediately, 
but  extended  more  than  ordinary  civilities,  begging 
them  to  make  use  of  her  lawn  and  her  piazzas,  to 
come  over  often  for  a  cup  of  tea  at  five,  and  sug- 
gesting various  forms  of  entertainment,  such  as  ten- 
nis, dances,  picnics  and  sailing  parties.  Determin- 
ing to  avoid  them  made  Paula's  head  fairly  swim. 

The  "  box  "  turned  out  to  be  a  wide,  airy  hab- 
itation, with  more  ground  than  was  awarded  to  its 
neighbors,  and  with  a  comfortable  capacity  for 
guests.  Compared  with  the  two  or  three  other 
country  houses  which  the  Heathcotes  were  fortu- 
nate enough  to  possess,  it  doubtless  seemed  to  them 
modest  and  unpretentious. 


144  A  PURITAN  PAGAN.    . 

To  be  told  by  a  mournful-eyed  young  woman, 
who  has  a  "  story,"  and  carries  it  upon  her  counte- 
nance and  in  every  fold  of  her  draperies,  that  you 
have  been  an  object  of  reverential  worship  for 
years,  and  have  been  called  "  Princess "  in  her 
prayers,  is  awakening  in  a  dull  neighborhood 
where  social  claims  are  few  and  unimportant. 
Mrs.  Heathcote  began  by  being  "  amused."  She 
ended  by  becoming  attached.  Yes,  curiously  so,  for 
one  who  was  not  ordinarily  romantically  attracted 
to  her  own  sex.  A  portion  of  the  mantle  of 
Paula's  own  enthusiasm  seemed  to  descend  upon 
the  shoulders  of  this  elegant  and  fastidious  woman, 
clothing  her  with  a  new  charm. 

"  There  is  something  about  that  girl  that  touches 
the  heart,"  she  thought. 

Mr.  Ackley,  the  gentleman  of  the  train,  was 
also  added  as  a  new  impression  to  Paula's  first 
weeks.  He  seemed  to  be  an  intimate  friend  of 
the  Heathcotes,  almost  one  of  their  household,  and 
was  passing  a  few  weeks  with  them,  \vhile  other 
guests  came  and  went  at  shorter  intervals.  Paula's 
first  judgment  of  him  had  not  been  lenient;  she 
still  retained  the  severity  of  judgment  and  the 
hardness  of  youth ;  and  surely  her  experience  had 
not  tended  to  demulcent  influences.  The  appear- 
ance which  he  always  presented  of  having  been 
lately  scrubbed,  his  long  highly-polished  finger- 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  145 

nails,  the  irreproachableness  of  his  cravats,  the 
smell  of  scented  soaps  which  emanated  from  his 
whole  person,  and  an  added  drop  of  perfume  which 
was  wafted  from  his  fine  silk  handkerchiefs,  with 
their  elaborate  monograms,  as  well  as  the  cynical 
look  which  he  wore  as  if  by  habit — while  admitting 
that  he  was  the  cleanest  man  she  had  ever  seen  and 
that  he  smelled  very  good,  a  fact  which  affected  her 
pleasantly  when  he  approached  her — she  felt  called 
upon  to  view  these  amenities  as  the  expressions  of 
a  lamentable  male  foppery  peculiarly  absurd  in  a 
man  of  his  age.  She  also  suspected  him  of  laugh- 
ing at  all  serious  things  and  of  being  flippant 
and  generally  frivolous.  That  he  was  clever  she 
had  immediately  guessed,  but  it  was  a  cleverness 
which  antagonized  rather  than  attracted  her.  In 
the  peculiar  moral  tenebrae  through  which  she  was 
groping  she  shrank  from  him  with  a  sort  of  fear. 
She  believed  him  to  be  a  person  capable  of  apply- 
ing a  scalpel  to  the  quivering  human  heart,  of 
tearing  it  apart  for  his  own  delectation  and  throw- 
ing away  the  analyzed  morsels,  with  a  vivisection- 
ists's  indifference. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  she  did  him  injustice. 
She  met  him  several  times  and  he  was  extremely 
amiable  and  courteous,  but  she  treated  him  always 
with  a  frigidity  bordering  upon  insolence.  Mrs. 

Heathcote  was  secretly  amused  by  this  defensive 
10 


146  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

attitude  of  the  young  woman.  It  had,  indeed,  be- 
come a  joke  in  her  immediate  entourage,  for  the 
more  Mrs.  Norwood  endeavored  to  avoid  him  the 
more  resolutely  did  Mr.  Ackley  redouble  in  his 
respectful  attentions.  One  day  he  would  send 
Mrs.  Norwood  a  book ;  another  day  it  was  a  piece 
of  music — Paula  had  brought  her  piano.  Again 
he  would  stop  with  a  rare  shell  in  his  hand,  which 
he  had  picked  up  at  low  tide,  just  pausing  for  a 
moment  at  the  cottage  door  and  leaving  his  gift. 
Paula  would  thank  him  coldly  and  not  even  ask 
him  to  come  in.  Her  aunt  rebuked  her  for  this 
lack  of  hospitality. 

"  I  am  sure  he  seems  a  very  agreeable  man,"  she 
said. 

"  I  loathe  him,"  said  Paula. 

Mrs.  Sorchan  sighed  !  "  Paula,  Paula,  you  are 
all  wrong,  my  child." 

There  were  certain  traits  in  her  niece's  character 
which  she  was  learning  to  deplore.  This  defiance, 
for  instance.  How  unfortunate  for  one  in  her 
equivocal  position ! 

"  He's  a  weak,  silly  old  man,"  said  Paula. 

"  You  are  a  poor  reader  of  character  if  you  be- 
lieve that  of  Mr.  Ackley.  I  imagine  him  to  be  any- 
thing but  weak  and  silly ;  and  as  to  old,  why  Mr. 
Ackley  is  in  the  prime  of  manhood.  He  is  evi- 
dently a  man  of  fashion — in  fact,  I  remember  to 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  147 

have  heard  so ;  but  depend  upon  it,  Paula,  even 
that  kind  of  success  proves  decided  merit ;  do  not 
forget  the  ' grand  honneur  aux  yants  glaces"1  sent 
from  the  French  battle-field,  and  the  Duke  of  Well- 
ington's message :  '  The  puppies  fought  excellently 
well.'  " 

Mrs.  Sorchan  was  a  very  sensible  woman. 

"I  wish  he'd  let  me  alone,  then,"  said  Paula, 
irrelevantly,  putting  the  shell  down  on  a  neighbor- 
ing chair  with  a  little  contemptuous  shove.  "  If 
he's  such  a  lion,  why  does  he  parade  in  an  ass's 
skin  ?  I  fail  to  see  his  object." 

"You  are  all  wrong,  my  dear,"  said  her  aunt 
again,  with  another  sigh. 

Paula  put  on  her  hat  and  sauntered  away  to  the 
shore.  She  went  far  that  day,  farther  than  usual. 
These  frantic  walks  were  her  chief  solace.  She 
would  think  and  think  until  her  brain  refused  to 
answer  to  the  drain  of  her  unending  questionings, 
and  her  pulses  recoiled  from  sheer  physical  weariness. 

Once  this  day  she  stopped  and,  throwing  her 
hands  out  to  the  pitiless  breakers,  she  tore  the 
gloves  from  off  them,  and  cast  them  away  from  her. 
They  seemed  to  press  upon  her  skin  and  burn  it. 
She  would  have  liked  to  tear  the  dress  which  cov- 
ered her  breast,  to  bare  her  bosom  to  those  damp 
salt  winds,  to  those  cleansing  waters  whose  Lethe 
might  forever  blot  the  hateful  memories  which  held 


148  A   PURITAN   PAGAN. 

her.  The  acute  pangs  of  an  impotent  jealousy 
were  gnawing  her,  a  jealousy  which  filled  her  with 
self-scorn,  and  even  with  a  certain  pity  for  the  ob- 
ject it  would  fain  have  reached  to  hurt  and  wound. 
How  shall  one  reach  the  dead  ?  For  those  lips  she 
would  have  wished  to  strike  were  voiceless,  that 
breast  she  would  have  liked  to  stab  lay  silent  for- 
ever. "  Oh,"  she  cried  to  the  surging  waves,  "  was 
ever  any  one  cursed  as  I  am?  Never,  never!" 
Then  she  thought  of  the  living,  of  the  child.  It 
was  then  she  tore  off  her  gloves  from  her  hands  and 
fain  would  have  rent  her  garments,  for  even  this 
victim  of  her  hatred  was  feeble  and  innocent.  Why 
should  one  torture  and  kill  a  little  child?  Could 
one?  There  had  been  human  fiends  that  did  it. 
God!  Then  she  grew  frightened  at  herself  and 
turned  backward,  hurrying  across  the  twilight  to 
the  desolate  sand  hills.  She  felt  intuitively  that  she 
needed  people — people  who  would  protect  her  from 
herself.  The  thought  of  Norwood  she  banished,  as 
the  man  who,  watching  his  life-blood  ooze  from  his 
death  wound,  thrusts  away  the  knife  that  has  dealt 
the  blow. 

She  could  have  fought  a  living  rival  who  smiled 
insultingly  at  her  discomfiture,  but  that  dead 
woman!  that  dead  face!  hidden!  A  veil  forever 
drawn  between  them  !  The  mute  shadow,  the  chill 
warning ! 


A  PURITAN   PAGAN.  149 

"  Touch  her  not :  she  is  beyond  thy  vengeance. 
Revile  her  not ;  she  may  not  answer  thee.  Spurn 
her  not ;  her  deaf  ears  will  not  heed  thee.  She  lies, 
perforce,  where  death's  cold  majesty  must  make  her 
sacred.  Sacred,  ay,  even  to  thee ! " 

All  the  latent  nobility  struggled  upward  then 
within  Paula's  breast,  and  she  cried  out  to  an  unan- 
swering  Heaven  :  "  O  God  !  Oh,  my  God  !  Have 
mercy  on  me ! " 

This  was  a  mood.  She  felt  it  coming  on.  She 
even  wooed  it.  When  it  failed  to  return  with  equal 
intensity  she  lashed  herself  disdainfully,  asking  her- 
self, "  Am  I  forgetting,  growing  reconciled  ? " 
There  was  no  danger.  The  next  day  the  waves  of 
pain  and  of  self  pity  had  taken  on  new  aliment, 
were  fresh  once  more  for  their  meal  of  torment,  and 
"  the  mood  "  balanced  back  with  redoubled  force. 
She  hugged  it,  the  dear  friend.  All  else  was  torpor. 
At  least  this  was  living,  and  so  it  came  to  pass  that 
she  was  glad  of  her  misery. 

There  is  probably  nothing  more  debasing  to  a 
human  soul  than  incessant  brooding  over  its 
wrongs.  Mrs.  Sorchan  watched  the  process  with 
anxious  solicitude,  and,  having  accepted  to  drive 
with  the  Princess  one  morning,  managed  to  say  a 
word  to  her  : 

"  I  wish  you  would  speak  to  Paula  ? "  she  said. 

"  Speak  to  her  ? " 


150  A   PURITAN   PAGAN. 

"  Yes.  It  may  seem  an  odd  request  from  one 
who  is  almost  a  stranger  to  you,  Mrs.  Heathcote, 
but  you  are  the  only  person  who  could,  I  think,  in- 
fluence her.  She  adores  you." 

"  Is  she  very  unhappy  ?     She  looks  so." 

"I  am  growing  almost  cross  with  her,"  said 
Mrs.  Sorchan.  "  It's  nonsense,  I  say.  No  man  liv- 
ing is  worth  it.  Heaven  only  knows  what  the  diffi- 
culty was  about.  She  never  told  me,  but  if  she  goes 
on  fretting  this  way  over  it,  she'll  lose  her  reason." 

"  I  wish  she  would  open  herself  more  to  me," 
said  the  Princess.  "Perhaps  then  I  could  help 
her." 

"  She's  very  reserved.  I  don't  think  she'll  ever 
confide,"  said  Mrs.  Sorchan.  "  Possibly  in  this 
she's  wise.  But,  even  if  she  does  not,  you  could 
help  her." 

"  Tell  me  how,  dear  Mrs.  Sorchan." 

The  Princess  bent  down  eagerly  toward  the 
older  woman. 

"  Why,  first  of  all,  get  her  to  go  out  more,  to 
accept  invitations,  to  mingle  with  young  people, 
to  dress  herself  properly,  to — to — be  human,"  said 
Mrs.  Sorchan. 

"  I  promise  you,"  said  the  Princess,  with  a  cer- 
tain solemnity,  and  from  that  hour  she  and  the  aunt 
were  fast  allies  in  their  compact  of  mutual  helpful- 
ness. 


A  PURITAN   PAGAN.  151 

The  day  following  a  note  bade  Mrs.  Norwood 
peremptorily,  "  Come  over  at  once,"  to  "  Osprey," 
which  was  the  name  of  the  Heathcotes'  place,  "  to 
look  at  some  pretty  things." 

Paula  hastened  to  obey  the  summons.  She 
never  declined  a  tete-a-tete  with  her  beloved,  how- 
ever, she  might  refuse  her  overtures  of  a  more  gen- 
eral nature.  She  found  Mrs.  Heathcote  walking 
backward  and  forward  between  two  large  sleeping 
apartments  in  the  second  story  superintending  the 
unpacking  by  her  maids  of  a  variety  of  large  cases. 
The  beds,  chairs,  sofas,  and  even  tables,  were  piled 
with  feminine  finery — gowns,  hats,  wraps  and  para- 
sols. The  lady  herself  was  draped  in  a  pale-yellow 
peignoir  of  indescribable  delicacy,  with  a  white  lace 
scarf  'thrown  back  over  her  hair.  Her  jeweled  fin- 
gers now  and  then  just  touched  the  dainty  laces  of 
under  garments  or  ball  dresses,  and  she  would 
throw  a  "  Eather  nice,  that,"  or  "  I  don't  admire 
this,"  to  her  busy  women. 

"  Ah,  Mrs.  Norwood  !  Here  you  are.  I  have  a 
lot  of  things  from  the  other  side  and  I  wanted  to 
show  them  to  you.  When  we  have  absorbed  all  the 
new  fashions  you'll  stop  and  breakfast,  won't  you  ? 
I  shall  wish  to  speak  with  you.  I  have  a  great 
favor  to  ask." 

Paula  was  a  woman ;  hence  she  could  not  help 
admiring  these  gaudy  feathers  which  were  to  be- 


152  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

deck  her  lovely  bird.  She  buried  her  face  in  the 
fragrant  batiste  lingeries  which  were  to  clothe  her 
idol's  fair  form,  and  seemed  to  be  already  impreg- 
nated with  her  sweetness. 

"  When  you  wear  a  blue  gown,  then,"  she  said 
in  nai've  inquiry,  "you  wear  blue  all  through,  and 
with  the  pink — pink  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Princess,  "  it  is  more  sincere." 

Paula  smiled.  Mrs.  Heathcote  turned  and  looked 
at  her. 

"  That  ought  to  commend  me  to  your  good 
graces,  surely,  Mrs.  Norwood.  I  think  you  admire 
sincerity  of  all  things,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Oh,  yes  you  do.  You  are  too  sincere  yourself. 
Much  too  frank,  you  know  ;  and  depend  upon  it,  it 
is  a  great  mistake." 

"  Too  frank  ? " 

"  Yes.  You  show  out  too  much  when  you  are 
bored,  and  that  is  uncivil,"  said  Mrs.  Heathcote. 

"  Help  me  to  improve,"  said  Paula. 

"  Are  you  in  earnest  2 " 

"  In  deadly  earnest,  always." 

Paula  still  spoke  smilingly,  but  there  was  an  un- 
dertone of  sadness  in  her  voice. 

"  Very  well.  I  am  in  earnest  too.  I  want  you 
to  do  me  a  favor.  Will  you,  my  dear  ? "  and  she 
extended  her  hand  with  that  gesture  she  had  of 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  153 

one  who  was  accustomed  to  command,  to  grant, 
not  crave,  benefits. 

"  Fancy  a  favor  from  me  to  you  !  " 

"  I  am  giving  a  dance  next  Saturday,  and  I  de- 
sire your  presence." 

Paula's  face  clouded. 

"Oh!"    she  said,  "I  can  not." 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  should  be  a  trouble-fete,  my  Princess." 

"  That  is  for  me  to  judge." 

"  And  then  I  really  have  nothing  to  wear,"  said 
Paula,  floundering,  taking  refuge  in  a  woman's  last 
defense.  Now  the  Princess  had  gained  her  ends, 
for  this  was  exactly  what  she  had  anticipated.  Two 
evening  gowns  were  rapidly  extricated  from  under 
a  voluminous  satin  cloak  and  triumphantly  tossed 
across  Paula's  knees. 

"  There,"  said  the  Princess,  in  a  practical  busi- 
ness tone.  "  I'll  sell  you  these  two  at  cost,  minus 
the  duties.  They  are  too  small  for  me,  and  will  just 
fit  your  svelteness.  Your  maid  can  manage  the 
small  alterations.  So  now,  Mrs.  Norwood — Paula 
— may  I  so  call  you  ? — that  is  settled." 

They  were  very  pretty.  One  was  a  soft,  white 
thing  with  a  golden  girdle,  and  the  other  an  old  rose 
"  creation,"  richly  embroidered  in  dull  traceries  of 
quaint,  Eastern  design,  looking  for  all  the  world  like 
a  part  of  some  Begum's  trousseau. 


154  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  These  things  are  marvels,"  said  Paula,  im- 
pressed. She  passed  her  lingers  over  them  lightly. 
"  I  have  a  very  scant  wardrobe.  I  did  not  think 
anything  worth  while  .  .  .  any  more." 

"  Of  course  they  are,  and  they're  dirt  cheap,  too," 
said  the  Princess,  with  one  arm  akimbo  before  her 
visitor,  and  still  maintaining  her  practical  pose,  evi- 
dently bent  upon  ignoring  Paula's  last  words,  and 
everything,  in  fact,  but  the  matter  in  hand.  "  Dirt 
cheap !  It's  a  bargain  for  both  of  us.  I  am  glad  to 
be  rid  of  them.  They  are  exactly  your  style  or  I 
shouldn't  offer  them  to  you.  Josephine  !  "  She 
turned  to  her  maid  —  "I've  just  sold  those  two 
gowns  to  Mrs.  Norwood.  Have  them  packed  and 
sent  over." 

"  They'll  be  exactly  what  will  suit  madame's 
beauty,"  said  Josephine,  with  consummate  ad- 
dress. 

"  And  by  the  way,  my  dear,  send  me  your  check 
as  soon  as  convenient,"  continued  Mrs.  Heathcote. 
"  I  am  terribly  out  of  pocket  just  now." 

"  Oh,  the  adorable  woman,"  thought  Paula. 
"  Aunt  Amy's  been  talking  to  her,  and  she's  trying 
to  distract  me. 

Well,  it  was  pleasant  enough. 

"  So  then,"  said  Mrs.  Heathcote,  presently, 
"  you'll  wear  the  white  frock  to  our  dance." 

"  Yes." 


A  PURITAN   PAGAN.  155 

"  You'll  wear  it,  and  you'll  be  so  smart  that 
you'll  eclipse  me  absolutely." 

"  That  is  probable." 

"And  your  aunt  will  be  proud  of  you.  Mrs. 
Norwood,  you  owe  something  to  that  good  lady. 
She's  very  fond  of  you." 

"  Yes,"  said  Paula,  "  and  you  think  me  selfish." 

"  I  think  you  absorbed,  and  that  is  a  form  of 
selfishness,  of  course." 

"  I'll  come  to  the  dance  and  look  as  pretty  as  I 
may,  Principessa  mia." 

"  That's  right.  Struggle  up  out  of  your  dismal 
swamp,  my  child.  Remember  what  our  precious 
philosopher  tells  us — '  come  into  the  azure,  love  the 
day.' " 

"  I  have  found  it  difficult,"  said  Mrs.  Norwood 
faintly. 

Then  the  practical  Princess  came  forward  impul- 
sively and  threw  one  arm  about  Paula's  shoulders. 
She  stooped — "  Kiss  me,"  she  said,  and  then  she 
added  very  low,  "  Don't  you  suppose  I  know  f  " 

To  the  evening  bravery  were  added  some  other 
bits  of  apparel,  two  morning  gowns  of  simple  but 
stylish  make,  a  parasol,  a  picturesque  hat — overflows 
from  that  cruise  which  promised  no  possibility  of 
drought.  And  Paula  was  rather  pleased  to  have 
these  beautiful  acquisitions  at  so  little  trouble.  She 
dressed  herself  up  for  her  aunt's  benefit  when  she 


156  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

reached  home,  and  was  almost  merry  over  the  hat, 
which  would  not  stay  on  in  the  proper  way  unless 
she  altered  the  mode  of  her  hair-dressing.  It  fell 
off  several  times,  to  Mrs.  Sorchan's  amusement.  On 
the  whole,  it  had  been  a  cheery  morning,  and  not 
once  had  dark  thoughts  invaded  her  consciousness. 

"  In  certain  moods,"  murmured  the  Princess, 
watching  Paula's  retreating  figure  across  the  grass, 
"in  certain  moods  there  is  nothing  will  save  a 
woman  but  clothes.  I  knew  what  I  was  about." 

Before  the  Saturday,  however,  the  kiss  ex- 
changed between  the  two  women  in  tacit  compact 
had  already  dried  on  Paula's  cheek.  The  "  mood  " 
had  once  more  swept  over  her  with  its  touch  of  the 
old  burning  pain.  This  time,  however,  she  did  not 
woo  it  to  remain,  but  hurried  out  from  its  persist- 
ence into  the  sunshine.  She  sought  the  shore  less 
to  indulge  in  retrospection  than  in  the  hope  that  ex- 
ercise, air  and  light  would  chase  away  the  dismal 
specters.  u  Mrs.  Heathcote  is  right,"  she  said.  "  I 
am  selfish  to  Aunt  Amy.  I'll  try." 

She  had  not  walked  very  far  when  she  found 
the  sun  intolerable — it  was  high  noon — and  she  took 
refuge  under  an  arbor  made  of  the  dead  boughs  of 
evergreen  trees,  which  in  a  fashion  shielded  from 
the  heat  and  glare  a  roughly-hewed  wooden  bench 
erected  beneath  them.  At  a  little  distance  some 
children  were  screaming  at  play,  scampering  wildly, 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  157 

with  shouts  and  laughter,  from  the  rapid  encroach- 
ments of  a  rising  tide.  Their  nurses  were  lying  on 
the  sand,  gossiping,  under  vari-colored  sunshades, 
making  a  trenchant  bit  of  foreground  against  the 
upheaved  whiteness  of  the  turbid  surf.  The  imme- 
diate vicinity  of  the  spot  which,  with  her  habitual 
denial  of  the  gregarious  instinct,  Paula  selected  was, 
however,  deserted.  She  seated  herself  under  the 
sheltering  branches,  wrestling  still  with  the  impor- 
tunate crying  to  be  heard  of  that  unsleeping  agony 
that  it  seemed  all  her  vigilant  effort  could  not  drug 
into  numbness.  She  doubled  up  her  hands  until 
the  nails  were  driven  into  her  palms  and  clinched 
her  teeth.  "I  will  not,  I  will  not!"  she  said  to 
herself. 

The  uttered  words  had  scarcely  died  when  she 
became  aware  of  a  shadow  across  the  sands  behind 
her,  and  a  man's  figure  loomed  up  between  her  and 
the  dunes.  He  carried  a  white  umbrella  in  one 
hand  and  a  palm-leaf  fan  in  the  other,  and  as  he 
neared  the  arbor  she  could  hear  that  his  breath  came 
shortly  and  could  see  that  he  was  waving  the  fan 
violently  before  a  very  red  countenance.  It  was 
Mr.  Ackley.  The  week  before  she  would  have 
made  a  swift  escape,  but,  with  her  hardly  formu- 
lated desire  to  conquer  herself,  she  concluded  now 
that  this  pervasive,  ubiquitous  creature  must  be  ac- 
cepted as  part  of  a  distasteful  lesson. 


158  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  Hallo,"  thought  the  intruder  to  himself,  "here's 
our  '  Tragedy '" — so  he  always  called  her  to  Mrs. 
Heathcote — "  I  suppose  shell  make  mince-meat  of 
me  as  usual.  She  hates  me  more  than  she  does 
the  malaria,  but  .  .  .  here  goes!"  and  he  saluted 
her. 

He  was  somewhat  surprised  at  being  received,  if 
not  with  alacrity,  at  least  with  politeness. 

"  It  is  very  hot,"  he  said,  removing  his  straw  hat 
and  creaking  uncomfortably  on  the  rickety  seat  by 
Paula's  side,  upon  which  he  had  sunk  with  a 
"  Will  you  permit  me  ? " 

He  began  to  wipe  his  forehead  with  one  of  those 
immaculate  handkerchiefs  which  wafted  its  agree- 
able and  vivifying  odor.  The  perfume,  although 
indefensible,  wras,  at  least,  not  cloying.  Mr.  Ackley 
was  a  man  of  taste. 

"  Fair  Amphitrite,"  he  said,  "  are  you  drinking 
alone  here  of  an  Amrita  which  shall  give  immortal- 
ity to  gods  and  men  ?  And  what  dreams  born  of 
your  sea-foam  beverage  am  I  dispelling  ? " 

"My  dreams,  Mr.  Ackley,"  said  Paula,  "are 
best  dispelled." 

"At  your  age,"  said  the  gentleman,  "dreams 
should  be  roseate,  or  at  least  such  is  the  cant  phrase. 
But  I  am  free  to  confess  that  I  do  not  think  the 
thoughts  of  youth  are  always  the  happiest." 

Paula  was  silent. 


A   PURITAN   PAGAN.  159 

"  Youth,"  continued  Mr.  Ackley,  "  is  a  time  of 
fermentation,  of  seething,  a  forming  process  which 
has  its  pain." 

"  It  has  its  pain,"  said  Paula,  "  when  it  is 
thwarted." 

"  And  who  cares,"  said  Mr.  Acklej,  "  whether 
it  is  thwarted  or  not  ? " 

Paula  put  down  her  parasol,  which  she  had  still 
held  languidly  over  one  of  her  shoulders  and  looked 
up  at  the  speaker ;  looked  at  him  with  that  old 
eager  search  of  one  who  seeks  the  word  that  shall 
unravel  a  cruel  riddle. 

Mr.  Ackley  had  noticed  this  expression  in  her 
face  before.  It  had  lured  him  with  its  promise  of 
a  new  experience.  It  was  this  remembered  look 
which  had  brought  him  to  her  side  now.  "  Poor 
little  girl ! "  he  thought. 

"  No,"  he  continued  to  his  intent  listener,  "  no- 
body cares,  because  nothing  counts  in  this  world 
except  results ;  there  is  no  time.  People  do  not  ask 
you  how  were  you  disappointed,  arrested,  undone. 
All  they  ask  is — What  have  you  accomplished  ? 
The  confessor  will  bring  you  back  to  recounting 
your  crimes  when  you  fall  to  chattering  to  him  of 
your  temptations,  and  he's  right.  Depend  upon 
•it,  everybody's  thwarted.  That's  but  a  trifle,  and 
there's  no  room  for  trifles  and  triflers  in  the  world. 
But  the  strong  people  conquer  everything." 


160  A   PURITAN   PAGAN. 

"  How  could  one  conquer  the  desire  of  venge- 
ance ? "  said  Paula,  tragically. 

"  Ah  ! "  thought  Mr.  Ackley,  "  she's  there,  is 
she  ?  How  well  I  recall  the  landmark." 

"  Your  inquiry,  Mrs.  Norwood,  is  most  natural 
and  human,  but,  depend  upon  me,  there  is  only  one 
vengeance  possible." 

"  Did  you  ever  thirst  for  it — for  revenge  ? " 
asked  Paula,  trying  to  make  her  tone  more  light, 
but  with  that  same  avidity  for  his  answer. 

"  Yes." 

"  Were  you  ever  wronged,  and  very,  very  angry  ? " 

"  Wronged  ?     Bless  me !  lots  of  times." 

"  What  did  you  do  ? " 

"What  did  I  do?  Well,  once  I  shot  a  man," 
he  said. 

Paula  uttered  an  exclamation,  gazing  at  the 
same  time  at  those  cared-for  hands  and  brilliant 
nails.  He  was  rubbing  the  crystal  of  his  eye-glass 
between  one  pointed  thumb  and  index  now,  and 
she  could  not  conceive  of  them  as  smeared  with 
a  fleck  of  gore. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,"  he  said,  with  his  usual 
cynical  curl  of  the  mouth ;  "  I  only  winged  him. 
He's  still  dragging  about  somewhere,  if  I  am  not 
mistaken.  I  remember  how  sorry  I  felt  at  the  time* 
I  had  not  killed  him.  But,  of  course,  now  it  has 
ceased  to  be  of  consequence." 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  161 

There  was  some  feeling — some  blood  in  tlie  man, 
then,  after  all.  He  was  beginning  to  rise  in  Paula's 
estimation. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  continued,  "  I  have  been  angry 
and  revengeful  and  wronged — particularly  wronged 
— and  all  the  rest  of  it,  a  dozen  times  or  more,  and 
you  see  I  am  quite  comfortable." 

Mr.  Ackley  went  down  again  in  Paula's  balances. 

"  I  should  hate  such  a  comfort." 

"  I  dare  say,  but  nevertheless  you'll  come  to  it." 
He  gave  a  little  dry  cough. 

"  Never,"  said  Paula.  "  I  have  a  nature  that 
can  " — she  corrected  herself — "  that  could  suffer, 
suffer,  suffer  and  never  tire." 

Mr.  Ackley  stirred  on  the  narrow  hard  bench 
that  bent  under  his  weight.  To  the  man  who  has 
done  with  life's  extremes,  this  fever  of  living  has 
something  wearying. 

"  You'll  tire,"  he  said,  shortly ;  "  when  once  you 
want  to.  At  first  one  doesn't  want  to.  It's  like 
faith.  Only  the  prayer  of  faith  is  answered,"  and 
he  laughed. 

His  laugh  jarred  upon  her,  yet  something  in  his 
talk  was  fascinating. 

"  Was  the  vengeance  sweet.  ? "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  it  didn't  amount  to  a  row  of 
pins.  There's  a  vengeance  of  another  kind,  but  one 

finds  that  out  later." 
11 


162  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  Tell  it  me,"  said  the  girl. 

"  The  only  vengeance  we  can  take  upon  another 
is  to  become  something  ourselves. 

"  To  become  something  ? " 

"  I  mean  that  there  is  but  one  revenge,  if  you 
like  to  call  it  so,  Mrs.  Norwood,  which  is  of  any 
profit  or  solace,  and  that  is  to  dazzle  another  with 
our  own  successes.  Believe  me,  to  maim  an  antag- 
onist is  a  poor,  base  pleasure.  It  is  better  to  be 
learning  to  fly  ourselves." 

"  I  think,"  said  Paula  eagerly,  "  I  understand 
you." 

"  The  day  they  watch  our  flight—"  Mr.  Ack- 
ley  gathered  the  tips  of  his  left-hand  fingers  to- 
gether and  then  threw  up  his  arm  suddenly,  open- 
ing his  palm  as  if  giving  its  liberty  to  a  cap- 
tive bird — "  they  don't  like  it  a  bit,  and  we  are 
revenged." 

Paula  drew  a  little  nearer  to  him.  "  Yes,  yes," 
she  said,  hurriedly — "yes,  yes  ...  a  man  can  do 
anything !  I  see,  I  understand.  What  could  a 
woman  do  ?  What  that  would  be  heard,  would 
be  known  ? " 

I  have  said  she  always  dismissed  the  thought  of 
her  husband,  but  when  it  did  persist  and  hold  her 
she  had  but  one  idea,  one  longing — that  she  might 
but  make  him  suffer  one  iota  of  what  he  had  inflict- 
ed upon  her. 


A  PURITAN   PAGAN.  163 

"  What  could  a  woman  do  who  has  no  genius, 
very  little  courage  ? " 

"  Let  me  see,"  he  said  reflectively.  "  Let  me 
see !  The  concluding  clause  you'll  have  to  leave 
out,  for  all  endeavor,  Mrs.  Norwood,  needs  courage, 
but  we'll  say  no  genius.  That's  handicap  enough. 
Well,  let  me  see !  She  might  .  .  .  she  might  be- 
come the  fashion." 

"  The  fashion ! "  Paula's  expectant  excitement 
fell. 

"  Not  so  easy,  not  so  easy,  my  dear  young 
lady,"  said  Mr.  Ackley,  "  and  I  see  it  is  the  difficult 
to  which  you  aspire.  Depend  upon  it,  notwith- 
standing that  your  passionate  heart  protests  against 
my  suggestion — depend  upon  it  it's  a  great  power." 

"  My  heart  is  not  passionate ;  it's  as  cold  as 
ice." 

"  She's  even  younger  than  I  thought,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "  but  she's  quite  delightful." 

"  To  become  the  fashion  a  woman  must  be  ready 
for  sacrifice." 

"  Sacrifice  of  what  ? "  said  Paula.  "  I  thought 
it  was  all  frivolity." 

"  Do  not  believe  it.  She  must  sacrifice  her  own 
penchants,  her  narrowness,  her  predilections,  her 
prejudices,  her  disagreeable  idiosyncrasies.  She  has 
to  get  out  of  the  cramped  domestic  life,  which  is 
always  the  unsocial.  Why,  it  is  an  education." 


164  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  One  couldn't  brood  and  be  morbid,"  said 
Paula,  tentatively. 

"  Of  course  not.  Women  of  the  world  present 
a  cheerful  front  always,  and  smile  with  a  death 
wound  in  their  breast.  Why,  they're  splendid ! " 
"That'll  fetch  her,"  he  thought.  "She  craves  the 
heroic." 

Paula's  whole  face  beamed  with  a  momentary 
inspiration 

"  Oh  ! "  she  said,  clasping  her  hands. 

"  Yes,  many's  the  time  that  I  have  admired  their 
pluck.  They  don't  go  moping  around  avoiding 
people,  I  tell  you.  Not  they!  They're  always 
to  the  fore  to  take  the  first  volley.  Don't  you 
suppose  they've  been  thwarted  too?  The  fact  is, 
society  recognizes  no  one's  right  to  intrude  sor- 
row upon  it.  That  is,  no  doubt,  one  reason  it  has 
imposed  mourning,  a  moment's  retirement.  Be- 
lieve me,  an  elegy,  and  particularly  one  in  petti- 
coats, is  an  offense  against  common  sense.  Jere- 
miads become  a  bore,  and  they  may  be  breathed  as 
well  as  spoken.  You  ossify,  fossilize,  and  are  tram- 
pled under.  There's  no  satisfaction.  We  all  have 
our  place  to  fill,  and  if  not  one,  we  must  be  ready 
and  supple  to  shift  to  another.  It  is  what  you  do, 
not  what  you  might  have  done,  of  which  you  will 
be  asked,  and  a  sorry  spectacle  you  make  of  your- 
self if  you  bring  nothing  to  the  banquet  to  which 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  165 

we  are  all  invited.  It's  a  very  nice  sort  of  a  meal, 
depend  upon  it,  dear  Mrs.  Norwood.  The  viands 
are  rich  and  savory  to  those  who  understand  how  to 
enjoy  them ;  and,  now,  you  will  be  voting  me  very 
prosy,  so  I  will  bid  you  good-day,"  and  he  rose  to 
depart. 

She  rose  too.     "  Mr.  Ackley  !  " 

"  Mrs.  Norwood." 

But  she  shook  her  head.  No,  she  could  not. 
Then  she  looked  up  at  him  once  more  and  caught 
his  keen  eyes  fixed  upon  her  face,  and  she  detected 
in  them  a  gleam  of  extreme  kindliness,  of  a  be- 
nevolence that  emboldened  her  in  her  loneliness  to 
say  to  him  falteringly,  "  Mr.  Ackley,  what  shall  I 
do?" 

"  Make  friends,  make  friends,  make  friends,"  he 
said  three  times,  slowly  and  gently,  and  hoisting 
the  umbrella  and  waving  'the  palm-leaf  fan,  like  a 
well-ballasted  and  full-rigged  vessel  with  topsails 
and  spinnaker,  all  set  ready  for  a  race,  he  bore 
away  out  of  sight. 

"What  he  said  was  intended  for  me,"  Paula 
thought,  looking  after  him :  "  I  have  changed  my 
mind  about  him.  I  believe  he  is  good." 

When  Mr.  Ackley,  perspiring,  arrived  at  "  Os- 
prey,"  he  found  the  Princess  lying  at  full  length  on 
a  low  divan  buried  amid  cushions  under  the  fes- 
tooned creepers.  She  was  as  usual  swathed  in  a 


166  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

wonderfully  graceful  robe,  opened  at  the  throat, 
which  clung  to  her  shapeliness,  falling  closely  to 
the  tips  of  her  pointed  slippers. 

"Where  in  the  world  have  you  been  all  this 
blessed  morning  ? "  she  asked  as  he  came  up  the 
steps. 

"  I've  been  sitting  on  the  beach  under  a  pear 
tree  with  Tragedy." 

"No." 

"  Yes,  I  have,  and  I  gave  the  little  warrior  some 
ammunition  from  my  cartouche  and  a  good  deal 
of  hardtack  out  of  my  own  rations,  such  a  good 
commissary  am  I." 

"  Did  she  take  to  it  kindly  and  eat  ? " 

"  She  made  grimaces  at  first — didn't  like  the 
taste,  but  by  and  by  she  swallowed  it  and  even 
came  back  for  more." 

"How  very  interesting!  What  did  you  talk 
about?" 

"  Our  wrongs." 

"  I  don't  Ixjlieve  a  word  of  it.  She  never  speaks 
of  hers." 

"  She  didn't  actually  make  me  confidences ;  she 
didn't  tell  me  what  a  wretch  *  he '  was,  but  we 
understood  each  other.  There's  a  drop  of  fierce- 
ness in  that  girl  that  I  find  attractive." 

"  The  poor  young  thing !  You  could  do  her 
good." 


A  PURITAN   PAGAN.  16T 

"  I  mean  to.     I  like  her." 

"  Say  that  again  and  I'll  jump  up  and  kiss 
you." 

"  Don't !  I'm  overheated  enough  already  in  the 
cardiac  region." 

"  My  kiss  gives  no  fevers." 

"  I  should  say  not !  The  contact  of  an  ice- 
berg." 

"Bah!" 

"  But  then  you  must  remember  that  I  have  just 
learned  to  be  a  cabbage  after  years  of  ineffectual 
struggle,  have  learned  to  crush  out  every  natural 
impulse  of  manhood,  and  you  talk  of  upsetting  all 
this  again  in  a  minute,  and  just  for  your  own 
selfish  ends,  a  mere  whim,  when  you  know  per- 
fectly well  that  your  cold  kiss  would  kindle  dead 
ashes." 

Under  the  persiflage  there  was  that  slight  tinge 
of  bitterness  which  occasionally  pierced  through 
Mr.  Ackley's  talk,  and  did  not  escape  Mrs.  Heath- 
cote. 

"  Apropos  of  our  Tragedy,"  she  said  imper- 
sonally, "why  do  you  like  her?" 

"  I  like  her — I  like  her  because  she  has  every 
pristine  emotion  intact,  and  is  a  refreshment  to 
the  thirsty  cabbage  in  the  sand.  Now  you  and  I, 
for  instance,  are  incapable  of  a  righteous  indigna- 
tion—" 


168  A   PURITAN   PAGAN. 

"  Speak  for  yourself !  I  am  indignant  at  this 
very  moment.  If  that  man  has  ill-used  her  it  was 
brutal  of  him.  What  do  you  know  about  him  ?  " 

"  Very  little.  He  stands  well  with  men,  and  is 
a  handsome  fellow.  I've  just  seen  him,  that's  all. 
If  I  remember  well  he  looks  a  little  like  her,  like 
his  wife.  I've  heard  he  had  a  vigorous  talent  and 
an  excellent  record,  as  people  say,  but  then  that's 
the  kind,  Mrs.  Heathcote,  who  always  raise  the 
devil.  A  creature  like  myself,  for  instance,  would 
be  incapable  of  creating  scandal." 

"  Let  sleeping  dogs  lie,"  said  his  hostess,  mys- 
teriously. 

"  O,  when  I  was  young !  but  these  stall-fed 
fellows  who  turn  in  so  regularly,  let  them  but  once 
get  their  necks  over  the  wall,  smell  the  green 
pastures  even  from  afar,  and  up  go  their  heels 
and  away  over  their  heads  for  the  madcap  gallop. 
I  tell  you  what,  they're  the  devil." 

"  .Do  you  call  it  being  stall-fed  to  be  married  to 
a  sweet  creature  like  that  ? " 

"She  is  sweet,  very  sweet,  but  she's  got  no 
humor." 

"  Is  that  a  new  cause  for  divorce  ? " 

"  I  have  known  less  logical  ones." 

"  She's  intelligent." 

"  Very ;  but  that  type  of  woman  is  a  bit  pon- 
derous, particularly  in  early  youth.  More  so  some- 


A   PURITAN   PAGAN.  169 

times  than  the  sluggish  ones.  The  melody  of  their 
song  is  charming,  no  doubt,  but  always  on  one 
note.  It  waxes  fatiguing." 

"  I  thought  you  admired  her  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  married  to  her,  and  then  I  am  very 
patient  and  very  old." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  you  and  I  are  veterans,  but  age  does 
not  teach  me  patience.  The  older  I  grow  the  less 
time  I  have  to  waste." 

"  You  are  quite  right.  You  have  not  learned 
patience ;  you  have  taken  pupils  in  that  branch  of 
learning  and  taught  it  to  them  effectually.  But 
for  you  to  talk  of  age!  Why  you  might  be  my 
granddaughter.  You  look  younger  than  Mrs.  Nor- 
wood." 

"Take  care,  or  I'll  carry  my  late  threat  into 
execution.  I  adore  you  !  " 

"It's  too  late.  You  killed  me  years  ago. 
There's  nothing  left  to  adore." 

"  Oh,  dear,  kind  friend,  is  there  not  ?  "  said  the 
Princess,  with  a  sudden,  tender  seriousness  on  her 
beautiful  face. 

Then  the  boys  came  up  from  the  beach,  the 
younger  one  with  his  hands  full  of  seaweed  and 
shells — he  was  eager  about  natural  history — the 
older  almost  a  young  gentleman  now,  preparing 
for  college  on  an  arduous  regime  of  tennis  and 
polo.  She  accepted  with  nonchalance  the  contact 


170  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

of  the  Triton's  dirty  fingers  upon  her  light  gar- 
ments. "  To  influence  men  you  must  not  object  to 
such  trifles,"  she  always  said — she  who  was  so  fine 
of  perception  that  she  would  never  appear  before 
her  servants  in  attire  that  was  not  becoming.  She 
displayed  coquetry  even  for  her  maid,  and  her 
children  looked  upon  her  as  a  goddess.  "It  is 
not  enough  to  be  loved,"  she  would  say.  "  I  can 
not  live  without  being  admired." 

Now  they  had  just  had  their  swim.  She  list- 
ened, apparently  in  rapt  attention  to  their  tales  of 
the  morning's  adventures  in  and  out  of  the  deep, 
and  only  dismissed  them  when  it  was  time  to  dress 
for  her  drive.  "While  doing  so  she  thought  less  of 
them  than  of  her  new  young  friend.  "  Poor  little 
thing,"  she  said  half  aloud.  "  I  must  encourage  her 
to  occupy  herself,  to  read,  to  study  —  this  intro- 
spection and  retrospection  will  never  do." 

She  did,  in  fact,  plead  with  Paula  to  give  her 
German  lessons — and  twice  a  week  they  met  of  a 
morning  over  Goethe  and  Schiller.  "  You  know 
more  German  than  I  do,"  said  Paula  to  her,  laugh- 
ing, "  and  this  is  philanthropy,  like  all  your  other 
kindnesses." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

EVERYBODY  at  East  Brompton  decided  that  Mrs. 
Heathcote  knew  how  to  give  a  dance.  The  large 
house  party  hastily  summoned  for  the  occasion  said 
so,  and  all  the  transient  flitters  who  were  bidden, 
and  so  thought  Paula,  who  arrived  in  the  white 
gown  with  its  golden  girdle  when  everything  was 
already  in  full  swing.  The  verandas  were  illumi- 
nated with  cut-glass  lanterns  imported  for  the  occa- 
sion, which  were,  however,  thrust  into  insignifi- 
cance by  the  radiance  of  a  splendid  moon.  The 
drawing-rooms,  halls,  and  stairs  had  been  trans- 
formed into  a  bewildering  labyrinth  of  palms  and 
ferns,  for  which  a  distant  greenhouse  had  evidently 
been  ruthlessly  plundered,  while  great  vases  of 
sweet-smelling  flowers  stood  about  on  every  landing 
and  in  every  available  corner  and  niche. 

"  You  are  no  longer  Crown  Princess,  you  are  a 
Queen  to-night,"  whispered  Paula  to  her  hostess,  as 
she  entered  and  made  her  courtesy.  "  You  are  re- 
gal, and  this  is  a  veritable  scene  of  enchantment." 


172  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  Come  to  me  later,  at  Newport,"  replied  the 
Princess,  smiling  under  her  low  hair  crowned  with 
its  diamond  ivy  leaves.  "  I'll  show  you  a  really 
smart  ball.  This  is  only  a  children's  frolic.  That 
will  be  much  better." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Paula.  "  Newport !  I  dare  not !  " 
and  she  passed  on  with  the  arriving  guests  into  the 
ball  room. 

Here  a  half-hour  later  the  Princess  sought  her 
where  she  was  standing  with  Mr.  Ackley  beside  her. 

"  There's  a  dudeling,  dear,  who  has  tormented 
me  ever  since  you  made  your  appearance  for  an  in- 
troduction. He  is  already  your  little  slave  and  vas- 
sal. May  I  bring  him  over  ?  He's  a  nice  boy." 

The  "  dudeling  "  turned  out  to  be  a  young  giant, 
at  least  when  he  stood,  for  he  folded  himself  up 
when  he  sat  down,  and  managed  to  sink  out  of  sight 
behind  Mrs.  Norwood's  skirts.  These  were  not  vo- 
luminous. The  Greek  gowrn  was  narrow,  and  dis- 
played the  figure  and  limbs  with  a  proper  degree  of 
modern  realism.  It  was  certainly  extremely  pretty, 
and  the  women  who  were  present  had  already  re- 
marked Paula's  charming  toilet. 

"  I  noticed  you  directly,"  said  the  dudeling. 

"  I  think  we  passed  each  other  the  other  evening 
on  the  beach,"  answered  Paula,  smiling. 

The  youth  seemed  to  her  a  familiar  figure. 
Some  people  make  this  impression  upon  us,  prob- 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  1^3 

ably  because  they  belong  to  a  distinct  and  oft-re- 
peated type. 

"  Yes !  But  you  look  so  awfully  pretty  to- 
night." 

"  You  are  encouraging." 

"  Don't  make  fun  of  me,  Mrs.  Norwood.  You 
are  really  stunning.  I  am  afraid  of  you." 

He  lisped  slightly  when  he  spoke,  had  the  ex- 
pressionless eyes  of  an  antique  bust,  a  complexion 
suggestive  of  peaches  and  cream,  and  a  wide  display 
of  shirt  front. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued,  "  I  noticed  you,  and  I've  a 
great  favor  to  ask  of  you — in  fact,  it's  already  set- 
tled with  Mrs.  Heathcote.  I  want  you  to  lead  with 
me  to-night." 

"Lead?" 

"  Yes,  the  cotillion.  It's  not  for  an  hour  or  two 
yet.  There's  plenty  of  time." 

"  What  will  you  say  if  I  tell  you  I  never  did 
such  a  thing  in  my  life,"  said  Paula.  "  Do  /  have 
to  do  anything  ?  " 

"  Nothing  whatever,"  replied  the  dudeling,  try- 
ing not  to  impart  too  much  surprise  to  his  intona- 
tion ;  "  only  to  be  passive  and  to  look  as  swagger  as 
you  choose." 

"  Ah !     Both  are  impracticable." 

"  Not  to  you,  I  am  sure.  Besides,  Mrs.  Heath- 
cote  wants  it  only  a  little  less  than  I  do." 


174  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  She  never  spoke  to  me  of  this  desire." 

"  She  probably  thought  that  when  you  saw  me 
you  wouldn't  want  to  dance  with  me." 

"  Not  with  the  leader  of  cotillions  ? "  asked 
Paula,  laughing.  "  The  great  man  of  the  occa- 
sion ! " 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  much  to  lead  down  here.  They 
take  what  they  can  get,"  said  the  dude  with  a  deep 
sigh.  "  It's  quite  dreadful  having  to  rot  down  here." 

"  Do  you  say  that  as  an  inducement  to  me  to 
dance  with  you  ?  Where  would  you  like  to  be  ... 
rotting?" 

"  Why,  at  Newport,  of  course.  All  the  fellows 
are  there,  and  only  yesterday  I  was  asked  to  go 
down  on  the  '  Now  Then ! '  The  yachts  are  getting 
under  way  for  the  cruise,  you  know.  Miss  Piper 
was  to  be  on  board,  and  Mrs.  Gresham.  Do  you 
know  the  Greshams  and  Miss  Piper,  the  great 
Washington  belle  and  heiress  ?  Nice  kind  of  girl. 
Do  you  think  she'd  do  for  me  ? " 

"  In  what  capacity  ?  "  said  Paula. 

"  You're  laughing  at  me  all  the  time,"  said  the 
dudeling. 

"  I  can  not  help  it,"  said  Paula.  "  You  have 
such  a  funny  face." 

"  I'm  glad  I  please  you,  I'm  sure,"  said  the  dude. 
"  Delighted  that  I'm  '  funny  '—it's  the  highest  com- 
pliment women  ever  pay  me." 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  1Y5 

"  But  why  couldn't  you  go  on  the  *  Now  Then ' 
with  Miss  Piper  ?  " 

"  I  have  to  work,"  gloomily. 

"  Very  hard  ? " 

"  The  fact  is,  Mrs.  Norwood,  the  governors  firm 
went  to  pot  last  year,  and  they've  reorganized  with 
me  as  junior  partner."  He  announced  this  not 
without  an  evident  touch  of  pride  in  his  new  honors. 

Paula  laughed  aloud  this  time.  It  seemed  so 
absurd. 

"  Do  you  doubt  the  solidity  of  the  venture,  Mrs. 
Norwood  2  Do  you  consider  the  basis  of  the  recon- 
struction insecure  ? " 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  Paula,  "  when  I  saw 
you  on  the  beach  the  other  day  I  felt  certain  that 
you  had  great  executive  ability." 

"  Why  so  ?  " 

"  You  were  so  beautifully  dressed.  I  was  much 
impressed." 

"  How  you  do  chaff ! " 

Then  the  music  started  up. 

"  Valsons"  he  said,  encircling  her  with  a  loose 
arm. 

The  first  bars  of  the  waltz  started  a  curious  re- 
membrance in  Paula's  pulses.  Once  Frau  Schultz, 
dropping  in  of  an  afternoon  at  the  old  house  by  the 
river,  had  played  this  same  melody  ^of  Johann 
Strauss's,  and  Norwood,  entering  suddenly,  had 


1Y6  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

taken  her  off  her  feet  in  an  improvised  rush  of  the 
dance.  A  swift  pain  shot  through  her  and  a  sense 
of  pity  and  of  tenderness  toward  the  man  whom 
she  had  spurned  and  left  forever.  His  face  seemed 
for  a  moment  to  look  at  her  reproachfully  over  the 
shoulder  of  her  tall  partner. 

"  Ah !  but  I  loved  him  ! " 

Then  the  black  mood  threatened  her  for  an  in- 
stant with  its  lurid  cloudburst,  but  was  resolutely, 
instantly  pushed  away — crushed  under  the  treading 
feet  of  the  merrymakers. 

By  and  by  Colonel  Heathcote  stepped  forward 
and  offered  her  his  arm  to  lead  her  to  supper.  She 
took  it  timidly,  for  she  was  a  little  afraid  of  him, 
yet  proudly,  for  she  was  touched  at  the  attention. 
What  young  woman  would  not  have  been  ?  It  was 
evident  that  these  good  friends  were  expressly 
making  her  the  central  figure  of  their  entertain- 
ment. She  said  a  word  to  Mr.  Ackley  after  leav- 
ing the  supper  room — "  They  have  been  so  kind 
to  me." 

"  Who  would  not  be  ?  " 

"  But  from  her — such  a  queen !  " 

"  Yes,  she's  a  remarkable  woman." 

"  Do  you  believe  she  really  likes  me  ? " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,  and  it  is  the  more  nattering 
that  she  is  a  man's  woman,  and  not  given  to  fiddle- 
faddle  with  her  own  sex." 


A   PURITAN   PAGAN.  177 

"  Yet  all  these  women  flock  to  her  ?  " 

"  Of  course  they  do.  There  are  the  dull  ones, 
who  come  because  she  startles  them ;  the  would-be 
wits,  who  come  to  obtain  new  points  of  view ;  the 
ill-dressed,  who  come  to  see  her  clothes ;  the  social 
aspirants,  who  come  for  the  brevet  of  fashion  she 
can  give  them.  Not  to  mention  those  rudderless, 
aimless,  anchorless  women,  who  drift  about  on  the 
sea  of  chance  anyhow,  anywhere,  for  pastime,  to  see 
and  be  seen,  gossip  and  cackle — the  kind  who  are 
nothing  and  nobodies,  and  yet  are  always  under 
one's  feet.  They  are  not  wives  or  mothers,  or  even 
housekeepers ;  can  not  give  you  a  decent  dinner,  or 
even  keep  their  children  properly  clad  ;  read  noth- 
ing, know  nothing ;  will  not  listen  when  you  speak 
to  them  on  any  subject — art,  literature,  politics,  sci- 
ence, religion.  There  are  hundreds  of  such — they 
are  thicker  than  whortleberries  in  the  August 
woods.  God  knows  what  they  were  created  for — I 
don't.  I  suppose  the  priests  would  say  as  a  chast- 
ening. That  kind  pester  the  life  out  of  a  woman 
like  Mrs.  Heathcote,  a  woman  with  serious  aims 
and  ambitions.  Is  it  a  wonder  she  keeps  them  at  a 
distance,  and  is  thought  cold  ? " 

"  Is  she  cold  ? " 

"  Mrs.  Heathcote  is  a  perfectly  balanced  being," 
said  Mr.  Ackley,  "or  she  has  gained  equipoise 

through  the  force  of  her  own  will.     She  is  a  woman 
12 


1Y8  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

of  heart  and  of  intellect,  but  ambition  is  probably 
the  ruling  motor  of  her  to-day." 

"  I  am  sure  it  is  no  petty  one." 

"There  you  are  right.  She  has  had  the  best 
ambition — a  personal  one.  She  has  made  of  her- 
self an  accomplished  woman,  a  perfect  flower  of 
civilization.  We  have  not  many  such.  I  have 
knocked  about  a  good  deal — I  have  not  found 
many  anywhere,  believe  me.  She  has  not  been 
content  to  hang  on  to  a  man's  coat  tails  and  drag 
him  down  and  hamper  him  in  his  career.  She 
has  made  Heathcote ;  she  will  make  his  sons." 

Paula  was  dying  to  ask  if  she  had  married  her 
husband  for  love,  but  her  delicacy  forbade.  Be- 
sides she  was  not  sure  if  she  wished  entirely  to 
dispel  the  aroma  of  mystery  which  hung  always 
for  her  about  her  goddess.  Paula  had  learned  to 
fear  the  searching  light  of  Psyche's  lamp  from 
which  must  ever  fall  its  drop  of  scorching  oil. 
The  Princess  had  passed  serenely  and  safely  from 
the  realm  of  idealism  to  the  commonplace  one  of 
an  acquaintance.  It  is  a  tribute  to  her  power  that 
in  so  doing  she  had  lost  nothing.  It  is  usually  the 
unknown  which  impresses  us. 

"  No,"  went  on  Mr.  Ackley,  "  I,  for  one,  am 
sick  of  those  people  who  are  always  complaining 
that  ill  luck  has  pursued  them.  The  fact  is,  they 
are  usually  infernally  lazy  dogs  who  have  not  had 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  If9 

industry  enough  to  learn  their  A,  B,  C's.  The 
plums  don't  fall  into  the  sluggards'  mouths.  No 
attainment  is  possible  until  we  have  disciplined 
ourselves.  It's  all  nonsense.  I  asked  a  woman 
once  who  had  facility  with  her  pen  why  she  did  not 
wield  it  to  some  purpose.  She  answered  that  she 
had  no  literary  surroundings,  no  library,  no  books 
of  reference,  no  repose.  Under  such  circumstances 
what  good  work  could  be  expected  2  I  replied  that 
I  believed  the  best  book  would  be  written  in  a 
prison  or  a  garret  with  a  match  dipped  in  one's 
own  blood." 

"  You  ignore  misfortune,  then,"  said  Paula, 
with  her  old  eager  manner,  "  which  cripples  and 
paralyzes  ? " 

"  Misfortune  must  be  overcome.  It  can  be.  I 
speak  from  experience.  I  have  overcome  the  worst 
that  could  have  happened  to  me." 

"  Singleton  Ackley  seems  to  be  all  gone  on  you, 
Mrs.  Norwood,  a  complete  mash.  Those  old  night- 
ingales get  all  the  smiles.  Dear  me  !  I  wish  I  had 
some  of  his  money,"  said  the  dude,  coming  up 
breathlessly  to  claim  his  cotillion. 

"And  I  wish  I  had  his  youth,"  sighed  Mr. 
Ackley,  who  heard  the  remark,  looking  back  as  he 
gave  up  his  seat. 

"  He's  no  end  of  a  swell,"  said  the  dude. 

"Really!" 


180  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"Why,  of  course.  His  house  is  a  curio.  Just 
piled  up  with  rare  bric-a-brac  and  things,  and  his 
dinners  are  immense." 

"  How  do  you  exactly  define  a  swell  ?  I  know 
the  creature  by  sight,"  said  Paula. 

"Let  me  see!  He's  the  fellow  who  gets  the 
best  of  everything — the  best  women  to  talk  to,  the 
best  hunter  to  ride,  the  best  house  to  stop  in,  the 
best  wine  to  drink  and  cigars  to  smoke — and  the  fun 
of  it  is  he  need  not  have  a  penny  himself  if  he  has 
only  got  cheek  enough." 

"  How  does  he  compass  it  all?" 

"  Why,  sometimes  he  fastens  himself  on  to  a  rich 
establishment,  like  this  one,  for  instance — that's  the 
easiest  way — and  plays  it  for  all  it's  worth.  The 
husband  goes  down  town  in  an  early  train,  and  the 
swell  lies  abed  all  the  morning,  rides  his  host's 
horses  all  the  afternoon,  and  makes  love  to  madame 
in  the  evening." 

"  Mr.  Ackley  was  right,"  thought  Paula.  "  It's 
quite  an  education." 

"  Mrs.  Norwood,"  said  Mrs.  Heathcote,  ap- 
proaching on  a  gentleman's  arm,  "  may  I  present 
to  you  the  Prince  de  Montreuil  ? " 

"  He  brought  Heathcote  letters,"  she  managed 
to  murmur  quickly  into  Paula's  ear.  "  He's  going 
around  the  world  on  a  pleasure  trip,"  and  she 
nodded  and  glided  on,  leaving  these  two  together. 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  181 

He  had  a  pale,  serious  face,  lit  up  by  a  pair  of 
melancholy  eyes.  They  gazed  at  Paula  with  a 
peculiar  expression,  as  if  they  would  read  into  her 
very  soul.  She  found  herself  turning  her  own  away 
embarrassed  from  their  deep  scrutiny.  She  had 
for  the  last  hour  been  perfectly  cognizant  that  from 
the  embrasure  of  a  window  those  eyes  had  followed 
her  every  movement.  It  is  surely  needless  to  tell 
the  reader  that  Paula  was  no  coquette,  yet  it  may 
be  said  that  the  assurance  that  one  is  awakening 
interest  in  a  stranger  who  carries  about  him  an  air 
of  unusual  distinction  does  not  rob  a  ball  of  the 
zest  of  its  enjoyment.  He  did  not  certainly  re- 
semble exteriorily  Frau  Schultz's  description  of 
Prince  Pus  Pus,  Paula  wondered,  nevertheless,  if 
he  might  not  possess  some  of  this  nobleman's  rare 
fascinations  and  destructive  characteristics.  He 
certainly  did  not  look  like  any  of  the  other  men 
present ;  neither  to  Theodore  Albert  Charles  Marie, 
Marquis  de  Stirbey,  Prince  de  Montreuil,  did  this 
sweet  sauvage  woman  look  like  the  other  women. 

This  impression  of  the  unique  and  exceptional 
was  reciprocal.  He  had  not  the  slightest  desire  to 
fall  in  love  with  a  married  woman — he  knew  what 
that  meant,  pah  ! — and  when  he  had  asked  who  the 
demoiselle  was  he  had  been  a  trifle  disappointed  at 
the  answer.  When  he  went  up  for  the  final  intro- 
duction it  was  more  to  assure  himself  of  his  mistake, 


182  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

to  make  certain  that  she  was  an  ordinary  Yankee 
with  a  sharp  voice,  and  that  her  charm  was  but  the 
trick  of  an  imagination  which  was  always  playing 
him  these  pranks.  Yet  when  she  addressed  him  in 
pretty  French  writh  her  adorable  American  accent, 
in  her  grave,  deep  voice,  he  could  hardly  explain  to 
himself  the  sudden  joy  that  inundated  his  being. 
He  had  lived  much  and  probably  had  lived  ill,  yet 
there  had  remained  with  him  the  longing  for  a  real- 
ized ideal,  that  longing  which  the  profligate  and  the 
plodding  moralist  may  share  alike.  It  must  be 
admitted  that  the  will-o-the-wisp  of  romance  had 
lured  him  before,  but  then  it  is  always  possible  that 
this  may  be  the  genuine  thing  after  all,  the  turn  of 
the  wheel,  the  psychic  moment.  Did  he  fancy  he 
had  found  it  to-night?  If  so,  where  was  the 
harm  ? 

He  offered  Paula  his  arm  and  she  took  it  silent- 
ly, telling  her  dude,  who  looked  rather  crestfallen 
at  this  new  turn  of  affairs,  to  arrange  their  seat  and 
start  the  dance,  and  that  she  would  return  in  ten 
minutes.  She  was  only  going  to  the  piazza  for  one 
breath  of  air  and  moonlight.  She  conscientiously 
did  so — returned,  I  mean — and  between  her  and  De 
Montreuil  very  few  words  had  been  exchanged. 

"  I  watched  you  nearly  all  the  evening,"  he  had 
said  when  they  stood  outside  alone  in  the  silent, 
flower-scented  night. 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  183 

Somehow  the  words  carried  more  effect  than 
the  dudeling's  similar  avowals  of  the  earlier  even- 
ing. 

"  Were  you  forming  an  opinion  ? "  asked  Paula. 

All  this  new  homage  was  beginning  to  get  into 
her  brain  a  little.  It  was  like  wine.  Her  feet  felt 
light  and  tireless.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed  with 
two  crimson  stains  the  color  of  Jacqueminot  roses. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Prince,  with  his  deep  eyes  upon 
her. 

"  That  I  was  frivolous  ? "  she  asked,  smiling. 

"  No." 

"  What  then  ? "  a  little  impatiently. 

"  That  you  were  a  person  who  laughed  and 
danced,  and  underneath — "  he  paused. 

"  Underneath  ? " 

"  Un  grand  chagrin.  Yes,"  he  continued,  "  it 
was  an  inspiration,  an  illumination.  Those  who 
have  suffered  know  these  things,  and  that  is  why  I 
was  so  supremely  attracted.  I  saw  your  true  soul's 
visage,  madame,  for  a  moment  under  its  mask." 

As  he  spoke  he  just  touched  the  hand  which  lay 
upon  his  arm,  reverently,  as  one  might  a  child's  or 
a  queen's. 

This  was,  indeed,  a  strange  experience. 

"  I  saw  you  among  all  these  people,  and  I  knew 
that  you* were  not  of  them.  There  is  an  idiom 
great  souls  speak,  of  which  the  weak  ones,  Its  dmes 


184  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

faibles"  he  went  on,  "  have  not  the  grammar,  not 
the  first  intuition,  and  it  was  your  soul  that  I  saw 
and  admired,  and  I  was  elevated.  "Was  it  sacrilege  ? " 

"  You  overrate  me,"  said  Paula  faintly.  The 
smell  of  the  roses  and  jasmines  made  her  dizzy. 

"  Let  me  do  so  then,"  he  said  gently.  "  Do  not 
dispel  an  illusion  which  was  a  vital  instinct  and 
which  has  made  me  happy  for  an  hour.  You  do 
not  begrudge  me  one  short  hour  ?  No  ? "  he  con- 
tinued, smiling,  but  the  smile  did  not  reach  farther 
than  his  lips.  "  You  are  not  so  parsimonious  ? 
Admiration  is  a  noble,  a  healthy  feeling  !  Its  influ- 
ence upon  the  mind  is  surely  beneficial.  If  you 
do  not  want  my  sympathy,  madame,  it  can  not  hurt 
you  to  have  me  throw  it  under  your  feet." 

His  voice  was  almost  tender.  Paula's  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 

"  I  wonder  what  that  French  prig  is  saying  to 
her?  He's  stuffing  her  with  some  damned  non- 
sense, I'll  wager,"  thought  Singleton  Ackley,  peer- 
ing through  a  window  shutter  Mrs.  Heathcote  had 
bid  him  close.  "  She  looks  quite  upset." 

The  Prince  had  seen  those  beads  of  dew  gather 
under  Paula's  eyelids.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that 
they  quelled  his  "  sympathy."  They  went  back  and 
the  cotillion  was  danced.  The  Prince  in  his  role  of 
seriousness  did  not  dance.  He  stood  by  tfie  wall  in 
an  attitude  at  once  noble  and  depressed,  never  los- 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  185 

ing  sight  of  Paula  for  a  moment.  Few  experiences 
are  more  delightful  to  a  woman  than  to  be  thus 
watched  during  the  evolutions  of  superficial  and 
minor  successes.  Paula  was  not  entirely  impervious 
to  the  charm.  As  I  have  said,  the  excitement  had 
reached  her  brain.  Its  titillations  were  ephemeral 
but  agreeable.  Certainly  her  first  gayety  had  been 
a  triumph. 

"  Reginald,"  asked  the  Princess  of  her  husband 
when  all  the  guests  had  departed,  and  even  the 
house  party  had  straggled  up-stairs  yawning  to  bed, 
"  what  do  you  think  of  Mrs.  Norwood  ? " 

"  She  seems  very  ladylike,"  said  the  Colonel. 
Women  played  a  slender  part  in  his  horoscope. 
This  was  enthusiasm  for  him. 

"  She  had  a  positive  success  to-night." 

"  Yes,  she  seemed  to  get  on  very  nicely  for  a 
stranger." 

"  How  extraordinary  that  Paul  Sorchan's  daugh- 
ter should  be  a  stranger." 

The  Colonel  was  sleepy.  "  It's  time  you  went 
to  bed,  Antoinette.  You've  all  these  people  on 
your  hands  to-morrow.  You  looked  lovely,"  he 
said,  and  came  forward  and  kissed  her  on  the  brow. 

Yes,  the  Prince  had  seen  the  tears.  Seen  them, 
but  he  hardly  went  so  far  as  to  long  to  drink  them. 
He  was  thirsting  for  a  rendezvous  in  the  azure, 
hungry  for  the  ethereal.  Men  and  women  have 


186  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

made  such  appointments  before  and  have  failed  to 
find  each  other  ...  in  the  azure.  But  he  could 
not  for  a  moment  doubt  Paula's  ingenuousness.  Its 
assurances  were  transparent.  He  informed  himself 
as  discreetly  as  he  could  of  her  past,  and  when  he 
was  told  that  she  was  a  young  woman  who  had 
lately  separated  from  her  husband,  he  said  to  him- 
self— and  this  was  very  courteous  of  him — "  She  is 
innocent."  He  remained  three  days  at  East  Bromp- 
ton,  and  passed  the  greater  portion  of  each  at  Mrs. 
Sorchan's  cottage.  This  latter  lady  had  not  been  at 
the  ball,  but  accepted  the  Prince  as  a  floatsam  from 
its  tides  with  becoming  civility.  Anything  was  bet- 
ter than  Paula's  "  mood."  She  did  not  call  it  thus, 
but  she  had  learned  to  dread  its  approach  and  to 
recognize  its  signals. 

Paula  thought  so,  too.  For  three  days  she  en- 
joyed the  companionship  of  a  man  who  never  jarred 
upon  her,  never  offended  her  taste,  understood  her 
before  she  had  spoken,  and  all  in  the  most  delight- 
ful and  never  to  be  regained  period  of  an  acquaint- 
ance— its  beginning.  As  for  De  Montreuil,  he 
seemed  to  be  drinking  of  a  cup  of  enchantment. 
Her  refinement  suited  him  exactly — to-day.  If  his 
thirst  for  happiness  was  great  and  the  drops  ac- 
corded to  his  soul's  famine  but  few,  their  flavor,  at 
least,  was  exquisite.  He  had  once  been  a  gour- 
mand ;  he  was  now  a  gourmet.  He  would  not  have 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  187 

exchanged  this  cup  for  one  which  should  have  been 
filled  to  the  brim  with  draughts  of  warmer,  coarser 
pleasures.  To  her  he  said,  "  The  first  moment  I 
saw  you  enter  that  ball-room  I  knew  you  would  be 
a  Gibraltar,"  and  Paula  had  liked  this  speech. 

On  that  last  day,  strolling  near  the  sea  together, 
they  saw  the  dude  lying  at  full  length  upon  the 
sands,  his  head  in  close  proximity  to  a  young  lady's 
lap,  and  the  same  umbrella  shading  them  both. 
The  girl  had  on  a  bright  light  gown  and  a  gay  hat. 

"  Oh,  the  perfidious ! "  said  Paula.  "  Fair,  faith- 
less, and  false !" 

Just  then  he  espied  Mrs.  Norwood,  and,  spring- 
ing up  on  his  long  legs,  ran  after  her  with  lumber- 
ing steps  through  the  deep  embankment  whose 
white  dust  almost  entombed  him. 

"  Mrs.  Norwood ! "  he  cried.  "  Mrs.  Norwood  ! 
Stop !  I  want  to  speak  with  you ! " 

She  wore  the  Parisian  dress  and  the  wide  hat 
which  a  special  interposition  of  Providence  seemed 
now  to  have  definitely  glued  to  her  dark  hair.  It 
fell  off  no  more. 

"  What !  You  break  up  that  cosy  flirtation  for 
me!" 

The  dude  doubled  up  and  then  threw  back  his 
head  with  a  roar  of  riotous  laughter. 

"  Flirtation !  Oh,  my !  Oh  dear !  Who  do  you 
think  that  is?" 


188  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

"  I  can  not  imagine." 

"  Why,  it's  my  marma." 

De  Montreuil  smiled  increduously.  Tliese  Yan- 
kee boys  were  proverbially  shrewd.  This  was  cer- 
tainly a  bold  stroke. 

"  Your  marma  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  mother.  Just  arrived.  Stopping 
at  Taft's  for  a  couple  of  weeks.  I  want  to  present 
her  to  you.  She's  just  wild  to  meet  you.  Well, 
that's  a  farce !  You  took  her  to  be  my  best  girl ! 
Won't  she  be  pleased!" 

The  lady  had  arisen  and  was  approaching 
slowly.  She  was  found  to  have  the  same  lisp,  the 
same  round,  vacant  eye,  the  same  red  and  white 
skin,  only  instead  of  the  shirt  collar  she  wore  a  lot 
of  soft  pink  crape  about  her  creamy  throat.  She 
looked  exactly  the  same  age  as  her  son — about 
twenty. 

"  Mrs.  Norwood  thought  it  was  a  flirtation ! " 
doubling  up  again,  with  a  shout. 

"People  say  Tad  looks  like  my  big  brother," 
said  the  lady. 

"  I  took  you  for  a  little  girl." 

"  I  am  well  preserved,"  she  said,  looking  at  De 
Montreuil  coquettishly,  and  arranging  her  hat  and 
veil. 

Mrs.  Norwood  introduced  the  Prince,  and  was 
very  gracious  to  the  young  mother.  She  remem- 


A   PURITAN   PAG  AX.  189 

bered  Mr.  Ackley's  "  Make  friends."  She  was  be- 
coming an  apt  pupil.  Would  she  some  day  go  far- 
ther than  her  master  had  intended  ?  The  animal 
instinct  of  self-preservation  was  beginning  to  stir 
within  her.  It  was  a  good  sign.  Distraction  must 
be  had  at  any  cost.  It  was  better  to  be  bored  than 
to  lose  one's  reason. 

"You  have  completely  bewitched  Tad,"  said 
that  young  gentleman's  mother.  "  He  goes  on  so  I 
wanted  to  see  you.  I  believe  you  know  Mrs. 
Heathcote  ? " 

"  Yes,"  Paula  said. 

They  all  sat  down  together  in  the  sun  and 
chatted.  It  was  easy  and  pleasant.  Mrs.  Nailer 
managed  to  place  herself  next  to  De  Montreuil. 
She  gave  him,  in  spite  of  her  ardent  desire  to 
see  Paula,  more  of  her  attention  than  the  latter. 
But  he  was  very  clever,  and  his  attitude  remained, 
although  civil,  reserved  and  cold.  He  still  looked 
across  the  new  comer  at  Paula  with  a  sad  fixity. 

"  That  man  has  soul,"  thought  Paula. 

So  Mrs.  Nailer  was  added  to  the  list  of 
"  friends."  It  was  all  part  of  the  new  life. 

After  the  three  days  the  Prince  went  away. 
His  party  were  impatiently  kicking  their  heels  in  a 
city  hotel  awaiting  his  return.  They  were  on  their 
way  to  California,  and  thence  to  China. 

Paula  was  rather  glad  on  the  whole   when  he 


190  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

had  gone.  She  was  afraid  she  would  tell  him  all 
her  secrets.  He  was  the  only  person  she  had  ever 
met  who  had  so  tempted  her  reserve.  She  missed 
him  dreadfully  for  a  week,  and  then  forgot  him. 
But  he  remembered  her  all  the  way  to  China,  and 
after,  when  they  met  again  as  they  were  to  do,  he 
had  not  yet  forgotten  her. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

DRIVING  through  the  pine  woods  a  few  days 
after  his  departure,  the  Princess  said  to  Paula 
rather  abruptly  : 

"  You  completely  captivated  De  Montreuil.  Do 
you  like  him  ?  " 

"  Very  much." 

"  Did  you  not  think  him  rather  ...  er  ... 
stiff?" 

"  I  dislike  free  a:id  easy  men." 

"  Yes,  but  he's  so  dismal." 

Paula  did  not  reply  that  she  liked  that  too, 
which  was  the  truth. 

"I  used  to  admire  those  dreary,  one-lunged 
creatures  when  I  was  younger,"  said  the  Princess, 
"but  they  don't  wear  well.  I  have  developed  a 
taste  lately  for  a  more  robust,  more  manly  type." 

She  whipped  up  her  ponies. 

"  Have  you  seen  Mrs.  Nailer  ? "  she  went  on. 
"  What  do  you  think  of  her  ? " 

"  I  have  not  yet  decided.     She  seems  amiable." 


192  A   PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  She's  rather  a  foolish  creature,  but  harmless. 
I  dare  say  she'll  run  after  you." 

"  Why  should  any  one  run  after  me  ?  unless,  in- 
deed, I  am  not  the  rose,  but  have  lived  near  her  ?  " 

"  Exactly,"  said  the  Princess,  one  of  whose 
charms  was  a  self-appreciation  free  of  mawkishness 
and  hypocrisy.  "  She's  dying  to  be  intimate  with 
us." 

"  Is  she  undesirable  ? " 

"  Oh,  not  exactly,  and  Tad's  a  dear.  But  I  like 
to  choose  my  own  intimates.  One  has  to  protect 
one's  self." 

"  What  I  can  not  imagine  is  why  you  choose 
me." 

"  Dear  Paula." 

"  Tell  me." 

"  I  saw  you  in  the  train  and  felt  the  sympathy." 

"  Yet  we  are  so  different !  " 

"  Yes,  you  are  a  dreamer  and  I  am  practical." 

"  Practical !     You  are  an  unwritten  poem." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  am  not  poetic.  I  have  the 
artist  temperament ;  not  the  poet's." 

"  Are  they  not  similar  ? " 

"  No.     You  are  poetic." 

"  Oh,  no  more." 

"More  than  ever,  I  feel  sure.  But  don't  be 
carried  away.  Keep  level-headed.  You'll  have  to 
be  very,  very  careful." 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  193 

Paula  felt  a  little  offended.  They  were  hurry- 
ing her  along,  pushing  her  to  these  things,  and 
now  they  said  to  her  "  Be  careful."  These  level- 
ing processes  were  rather  tame  after  the  Prince's 
adoration. 

"  I  have  no  temptation,"  she  said  a  little  haught- 
ily. "  I  am  too  desperately  unhappy." 

"  Ah !  the  rebound,"  said  Mrs.  Heathcote — 
"  that  will  be  a  dangerous  moment." 

"  There  can  be  no  rebound." 

"  It  will  come." 

"  Never." 

"  Don't  be  angry,  Paula.     I  really  love  you." 

"  I  could  not  be  angry  with  you,  dear  Mrs. 
Heathcote,  after  all  your  kindness" — still  a  little 
coldly. 

"  That  sounds  perfunctory,  and  between  you 
and  me  'it  is  needless.  I  detest  cant  phrases.  You 
attract  me  ;  I  seek  you.  We  are  quits.  But  men, 
my  child,  are  on  the  qui  vive  to  dry  the  tears  from 
off  the  cheeks  of  young  women  they  believe  un- 
happy. The  fact  of  your  position  will,  of  course, 
awaken  their  interest  and  pique  their  curiosity  ; 
you  will  find  yourself  sometimes  misunderstood, 
under  all  this  fire  of  homage,  with  your  burning 
Sappho  face.  While  I  know  little  of  your  past  I 
strongly,  nay,  urgently,  advise  you  to  go  into  the 

world.     I  feel  certain  that  to  mix  with  people  is 
13 


194  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

the  wiser  course  for  you.  It  is  enlarging  and 
softening,  whatever  may  be  said  to  the  contrary. 
It  is  indeed  a  small  soul  that  contact  with  the  world 
shrivels  and  injures.  People  prate  of  sympathy, 
but  what  we  need  is  friction,  little  Paula.  In  the 
world  there  is  emulation.  We  can  not  be  slipshod 
and  slovenly.  When  we  begin  to  say  '  Anything 
will  do,'  we  are  lost,  for  we  are  all  lazy.  It  is 
possible  to  be  in  the  world  and  keep  sweet.  Be- 
sides forming  our  manners  society  enlarges  the 
circle  of  our  influence.  It  is  an  excellent  compass  ; 
it  shows  us  our  bearings ;  teaches  us  its  value  and 
our  own.  People  who  do  not  keep  in  touch  with 
the  times  are  generally  monstrous  egotists;  they 
fancy  themselves  the  monopolists  of  thought,  and 
are  amazed  that  a  worldling  may  have  an  idea.  I 
believe  when  we  accept  each  passing  pleasure, 
happiness  and  content  may  be  found  in  the  end. 
If  they  are  not,  one  will  at  least  have  learned 
something.  But  be  extremely  pmdent.  Carry 
your  foil  aloft,  or  you  will  miss  the  future  I  have 
arranged  for  you." 

"  There  is  no  future ;  but  I  was  always  told  I 
was  too  cold." 

"  You  are  not  cold,  although  men  will  tell  you 
so  to  gain  their  own  ends.  You  have  a  warm  and 
loving  nature.  How  many  men  have  insisted  that 
I  was  '  marble '  because  I  would  not  for  their  sake 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  195 

kill  my  mother,  abandon  my  children,  and  throw 
poor  Reginald  out  of  the  window  !  I  wonder  if 
they  would  have  committed  half  of  these  crimes 
for  my  sake !  And  crime  requires  a  certain  hero- 
ism, or  recklessness — if  you  like  the  word  better — 
a  courage  of  which  I  feel  certain  these  fine  gentle- 
men were  quite  incapable." 

"  You  withered  them,  I  am  sure,  with  your 
imperious  contempt." 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  not  a  bit.  That's  old  fashioned. 
The  '  avaunt,  ruffian '  is  out  of  date,  and  has  become 
as  ridiculous  as  the  duello.  No,  when  they  make 
love  to  me  I  am  amused,  and  sometimes  I  like  it. 
Nothing  teaches  us  the  delightful  ingenuousness  of 
man  like  his  love-making.  Generally  their  senti- 
ment is  not  profound  or  grave  enough  to  hurt 
anybody ;  and  should  it  develop  into  a  great  passion 
the  man  is  improved  and  elevated,  taken  out  of 
himself  and  away  from  a  deal  of  mischief." 

"  Tad  was  ingenuous,"  laughed  Paula,  "  when 
he  asked  me  if  Miss  Piper  would  do  for  him." 

"  Ah !  Poor  Tad  !  Men  who  have  all  run  to 
legs  are  apt  to  be  foolish." 

"  You  can  afford  to  laugh  at  them  all,  but  at 
that  game  some  weaker  women  have  burned  their 
fingers." 

"  Not  necessarily  weaker  ;  stronger,  perhaps ; 
that  is  just  what  I  warn  you  against ;  never  to  take 


196  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

these  things  too  seriously.  There  are  problems 
more  important  than  love  and  happiness." 

"  Ah  !  but  I  crave  just  these,  and  now  I  distrust 
every  one." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  do  not." 

"  Doubt  it  if  you  will.  I  know  I  have  learned 
that  lesson,"  said  Paula  bitterly. 

"  You  will  unlearn  it.  We  all  have  to,  if  we  are 
to  live  at  all." 

"  What  am  I  to  do  ?"  asked  Paula  piteously. 

"  Whenever  you  are  in  doubt  come  and  we  will 
talk  it  over.  The  years  have  left  a  certain  wisdom 
with  me,"  and  on  Mrs.  Heathcote's  face  that  shadow 
fell  which  Paula  had  seen  upon  it  sometimes  when 
she  had  passed  with  her  gay  companion  on  the  river- 
side in  the  days  gone  by. 

"Are  you  not  happy?"  Paula  asked  trem- 
blingly. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Heathcote.  "  I  am  happy," 
but  her  words  did  not  bring  conviction.  By  and 
by  she  said : 

"  Do  you  remember  what  Mr.  Ackley  said  that 
day  in  the  train  3  Did  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  listened  ;  I  heard." 

"  I  think  that  I  am  like  his  Yanessa — I  want  the 
bird  and  the  ship.  I  have  wide  lungs ;  their  aspi- 
rations are  deep.  Little  narrow-chested  people  may 
be  content  with  shorter  breaths.  Happiness  is  not 


A   PURITAN  PAGAN.  197 

enough  for  a  nature  like  mine ;  and  how  shall  one 
grasp  it  in  a  world  of  sin  and  of  suffering  ?     No, 
I  never  saw  even  the  look  of  it  but  once." 
"  Ah  !  where  did  you  see  it  so  near  ?  " 
"  In  the  eyes  of  a  dying  nun ;  she  belonged  to  a 
very  poor  and  obscure  order." 

"  What  did  they  tell  you — her  eyes  2 " 
"  They  told  me  of  the  immortal,  Paula.     All ! 
that  radiance ! " 

Paula  slipped  her  hand  into  Mrs.  Heathcote's 
palm,  and  they  thus  drove  home  silently  through 
the  gloaming  which  was  creeping  on  apace  over  a 
pathless  sea. 

When  the  time  came  Mrs.  Norwood  went  to 
Newport.  Newport,  that  goddess  Aphrodite,  born 
of  the  scud  and  foam,  whose  graceful  limbs  and 
fairy  proportions  have  been  a  bit  marred  by  being 
forced  into  tinsel  and  tights.  Newport,  Queen  of 
the  Waters !  At  once  grand  and  absurd,  with  her 
splendid  nature  and  her  hideous  architecture!  A 
trifle  inebriated  with  her  own  achievements,  on 
her  hands  and  knees  in  adoration  before  the  wing 
of  an  English  castle  or  the  half-peaked  roof  of 
a  French  chateau,  gazing,  applauding,  crowing. 
"See!  See!  What  have  I  brought  forth?"— 
scumbling  a  dash  of  elegance  over  the  thin  colors 
of  a  hopeless  provincialism,  over  the  doings  of 
a  few  foolish  performers  who  are  at  once  the 


198  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

actors  and  the  entranced  audience  of  their  own 
vapid  comedy. 

Paula,  who  knew  nothing  of  the  world,  but 
whose  perceptions  were  just — wisdom  is  revealed 
to  babes,  we  are  told — felt  jarred  upon  by  all  these 
clashing  contrasts.  She  was  absolutely  wretched 
the  first  hours,  with  the  heaviness  of  heart  and  ex- 
cruciating homesickness  that  is  so  frequently  the 
first  experience  in  a  gay  country-house  filled  with 
guests,  before  one  has  unpacked  one's  boxes,  found 
one's  moorings,  or  knows  exactly  what  is  expected 
of  one. 

In  the  splendors  of  the  Heathcotes'  home  and  at 
the  "  smart "  dance  which  had  been  predicted  to  her 
at  East  Brompton  she  found  herself,  of  course,  con- 
siderably less  important  than  in  the  smaller  circle 
of  the  early  summer.  Tad  was  there,  but  he,  too, 
slipped  about  inconspicuously,  and  seemed  some- 
how to  have  dwindled  as  to  size  and  self-assertion. 
Miss  Piper,  whose  dove's  eyes  proved  to  be  even 
more  enticing  than  her  ducats,  reserved  their  humid 
glances  for  higher  game,  seeming,  indeed,  to  accord 
Tad  but  small  favor. 

"  How's  your  marma  ? "  Paula  threw  the  ques- 
tion to  him  at  the  ball,  as  they  passed  each  other 
in  the  fast-filling  rooms.  She  was  glad  to  see  his 
pleasant  and  familiar  countenance  again. 

"She's   well.      She's  still    at  East    Brompton. 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  199 

There's  a  fellow  down  there  has  a  mash  on  her,  and 
I  can't  get  her  away.  She  seems  to  like  him.  I 
don't  though,  and  I'll  pull  his  nose  for  him  soon  if 
she  don't." 

Poor  Tad,  it  must  be  conceded,  between  his  fa- 
ther's failures  and  his  mother's  flirtations  had  his 
hands  full. 

Paula  was  not  called  upon  to  lead  the  cotillion 
this  time,  which  was  danced  by  the  hostess  herself 
with  one  of  the  older  men,  and  Colonel  Heathcote 
conveyed  to  supper  an  elderly  dowager  profusely 
befeathered  and  bediamonded,  and  of  great  pride 
and  renown.  Nevertheless,  after  her  first  feelings 
of  loneliness  as  she  watched  this  sea  of  unknown 
and  indifferent  faces,  the  young  woman  took  heart 
of  grace,  and  managed  to  be  rather  amused,  if  not 
entirely  content.  To  be  entirely  content  one  must 
sacrifice  too  much.  She  made  a  hundred  acquaint- 
ances that  evening  and  afterward,  and  that  she  was 
stopping  at  the  Heathcotes'  seemed  an  open  sesame 
to  every  form  of  entertainment.  She  was  even 
rather  surprised  at  the  extraordinary  interest  she 
awakened  after  announcing  this  fact  in  people  who 
had  before  granted  her  but  a  languid  and  cursory 
notice.  To  bask  in  the  smile  of  greatness  is  to  be 
great.  The  prizes  of  notoriety  are  quickly  tangible. 

"Have  you  seen  Antoinette  Heathcotes'  last 
fad  ? "  some  one  asked  of  somebody  else. 


200  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  No.     Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  He  !     Why,  it's  a  woman." 

"  A  woman  !  Brune,  I  suppose ;  a  foil  to  her 
fairness." 

"Yes,  exactly.  She's  a  daughter  of  Sorchan, 
the  scientist.  Antoinette  picked  her  up  somewhere 
this  summer.  She's  really  quite  distinguished  look- 
ing." 

"  Is  she— er— larky  3  " 

"I  dare  say.  I  hear  she's  separated  from  her 
husband." 

"Whew!  That's  promising  What's  his 
name  ? " 

"  Norwood." 

.     "  What !     The  great  patent-man  who's  becoming 
a  celebrity  ? " 

"  I  never  heard  of  him." 

"  Don't  you  read  the  papers  ? " 

"  Now  and  then  when  I  have  time." 

"They  were  full  of  his  telephone  case  last 
year." 

"  Is  that  she  ?  Why !  she  is  attractive !  Intro- 
duce me ! " 

Among  the  shufflings  and  shiftings  of  this 
sparkling  panorama,  it  came  to  pass  that  the  Presi- 
dent, hurrying  through  Newport,  attended  by  a 
suite  of  United  States  Senators  and  minor  satellites, 
was  proffered  a  large  dinner  at  "  Heathcote,"  and 


A   PURITAN  PAGAN.  201 

Paula  felt  herself  more  at  home  with  these  men 
than  with  the  gayer  butterflies,  the  intricacies  of 
whose  Masonic  language  she  was  only  just  begin- 
ning to  unravel.  She  enjoyed  this  semi-official 
evening  particularly.  The  President,  a  short  man 
with  a  strident  voice,  a  large  head,  and  a  protruding 
abdomen,  when  told  she  was  Paul  Sorchan's  daugh- 
ter, took  her  hand  in  his  and  spoke  in  warm  praises 
of  her  father.  The  fact  of  her  parentage  seemed 
to  commend  her  more  to  him  than  that  she  was  a 
guest  at  "  Heathcote."  This  last  accident  was  evi- 
dently an  insignificant  detail  to  a  ruler  of  millions. 
And  Paula  thought  him  a  very  nice  man,  indeed, 
little  guessing  that  she  wras  soon  to  meet  him  again, 
and  under  unusual  auspices. 

Paula  spoke  of  her  enjoyment  to  the  Princess 
when  these  two  ladies  were  stretched,  one  on  the 
bed  and  the  other  on  the  sofa,  of  Mrs.  Heathcotes' 
spacious  bedroom  in  one  of  those  long  vigils  whose 
values  are  best  known  to  the  subtle  and  sagacious 
sex.  Is  the  plotting  against  the  stronger  one  one 
of  the  uses  of  these  secret  symposiums?  How 
many  conspiracies  have  germed  in  their  sessions? 
How  many  reputations  have  been  passed  about  and 
battered  ?  How  many  state  secrets — as  well  as  pri- 
vate— have  been  recklessly  divulged  ? 

"  Did  you  really  amuse  yourself,  my  dear  ?  To 
me  it  was  a  twice-told  tale.  I  confess  I  was  tired  to 


202  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

death.  But  tell  me,  was  the  dinner  good  ? "  asked 
Mrs.  Heathcote,  not  without  some  measure  of 
anxiety. 

"  Why,  of  course ;  superlatively  so,  like  every- 
thing you  have.  I  don't  believe  the  President  had 
ever  seen  anything  so  beautiful  and  delicate  before 
— and  all  those  superb  exotics  and  orchids ! " 

"  Ah !  Poor  thing !  No,  I  dare  say  not.  He 
looked  to  me  as  if  he  would  have  much  preferred  a 
piece  of  pie  and  a  drink  of  whisky  at  the  side- 
board behind  a  screen." 

"  I  suppose  he  began  life  on  just  that  sort  of 
diet,"  laughed  Paula. 

"  All  the  more  honor  to  him,  that  he  now  sits  at 
the  table,"  said  Mrs.  Heathcote,  whose  large  intelli- 
gence precluded  snobbishness.  "  But,  of  course,  I 
wished  the  repast  to  be  satisfactory  to  please  Colo- 
nel Heathcote.  Thank  God,  he's  phlegmatic  enough 
about  most  things,  but  fussy  he  is  about  his  dinner. 
1  am  sure  his  religion  could  console  him  for  my 
loss,  or  that  of  one  of  the  boys,  but  never  for  a  bad 
dinner." 

"Who  was  the  lovely  woman  that  Colonel 
Heathcote  took  in  ? "  asked  Paula. 

"  Ah  !     That  was  Mrs.  Jack  Gresham." 

"  Do  tell  me  something  about  her,"  said  Paula. 
"  I  admired  her  excessively." 

"  If  I  begin  to  give  you  Connie  Gresham's  biog- 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  203 

raphy,"  said  Mrs.  Heathcote,  "  we  should  remain 
here  until  the  hours  of  dawn,  and  yet  the  super- 
ficial have  seen  only  success  and  glitter.  She  is 
indeed  more  than  attractive.  The  world  will  have 
it  that  we  are  rivals,  but  we  are  nothing  of  the 
sort.  While  we  are  not  intimate,  we  are  the  best 
of  friends,  and  I  have  known  something  of  that 
woman's  heart  which  few  have  guessed.  A  tragedy 
once  touched  her  life — it  has  left  its  mark." 

"Oh!"  said  Paula,  "tell  me,"  clasping  her 
hands. 

"  Some  day,  perhaps  ;  not  to-night,  it  is  too  late. 
I  have  often  thought  how  foolish  women  are  to 
dislike  Mrs.  Gresham.  Why,  such  a  one  is  the 
avenger  of  our  sex.  No,"  she  continued,  "I  was 
bored.  But  Reginald  wanted  this  dinner,  and  be- 
sides, I  have  an  axe  to  grind." 

Then  in  inaudible  tones  to  the  outsider  she  told 
Paula  about  this  "  axe." 

"  You'll  get  it,  of  course  ? " 

"  I  do  not  see  my  way  absolutely  clear,  and 
Heathcote  is  so  bold  politically  he'll  be  sure  to 
make  some  muddle.  There'll  be  that  Cerberus  of 
the  press  to  sop.  But  I  do  want  it,  and  he's  so  well 
fitted." 

"  And  what  about  yourself  ?  Oh  !  it  would  be 
too  delightful  to  have  such  a  representative  abroad ! 
We  should  all  be  so  proud." 


204  A  PURITAN  PAG  AX. 

"  Take  care.  I  don't  want  the  maids  to  over- 
hear." 

Then  they  fell  again  to  whispering.  She  stood 
at  the  doorway,  tall  and  elegant,  her  peignoir  fall- 
ing to  her  feet  and  her  long  hair  upon  her  shoul- 
ders. "  And,  of  course,  Paula,"  she  said,  "  if  we 
get  it  you'll  come  out  to  us." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Singleton  Ackley  on  the  next 
morning,  crossing  the  tennis  grounds  at  the  Casino 
to  greet  Paula,  "  I  am  so  charmed  to  meet  you 
again,  Mrs.  Norwood." 

He  extended  a  short  arm  and  screwed  up  his 
nose  to  release  his  eyeglass,  which  swung  with  a 
flap  against  his  vest. 

"  You  look  fresh  as  a  flower.  You  are  better 
than  an  aubade.  And  the  poor  Prince,  what  has 
become  of  him  ?  Is  he  wiped  off  the  slate,  eh  ?  " 

"  Completely." 

"  You  came  to  the  right  place.  I  always  come 
here  when  I  wish  to  wipe  off  the  slate.  It  would 
be  a  wise  thing  to  do  every  night  when  we  go  to 
our  beds.  Wipe  off  the  slate,  wipe  off  the  slate  !  " 

"Ah!     If  all  the  lines  were  in  chalk  !" 

He  was  more  of  an  exquisite  than  ever,  and  still 
smelled  of  soap  and  of  roses.  But  she  liad  ceased 
to  look  upon  him  in  the  light  of  a  fop  and  a  fool. 
She  had  begun  to  like  and  respect  him.  She  had 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  205 

often  wondered  what  the  misfortune  was  to  which 
he  had  once  alluded.  Did  he,  so  calm,  really  know 
suffering,  really  ?  Not  annoyance,  not  petty  vex- 
ation, but  that  yawning,  bottomless  pit  of  the 
"  mood."  They  did  not,  however,  venture  on  such 
dangerous  topics,  but  went  in  the  sunlight  to  watch 
the  young  athletes  scampering  about  hither  and 
thither,  stampeding  and  shouting  with  aggressive 
tennis  bats. 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

AT  the  end  of  September  Mrs.  Sorchan  and 
Paula  received  an  invitation  to  be  present  at  an 
oration  which  was  to  be  delivered  in  honor  of 
Paula's  father.  There  was  an  American  home 
industry  exhibition  going  on  at  the  capital  in 
which  one  hall  was  especially  devoted  to  the  elec- 
tric machines  whose  inventions  had  crowned  Paul 
Sorchan  with  fame.  At  its  opening  there  were  to 
be  speeches  and  addresses,  and  the  President  him- 
self had  half  promised  to  attend  in  person.  Paula 
and  Mrs.  Sorchan,  as  Mr.  Sorchan's  only  near 
relatives,  were  bidden  to  this  entertainment,  and 
tickets  for  prominent  reserved  seats  upon  the  plat- 
form were  forwarded  to  them  inclosed  with  their 
invitation. 

"  Suppose  we  go,"  said  Mrs.  Sorchan.  "  I 
haven't  seen  "Washington  for  several  years." 

"I  have  not  been  there  since  I  was  a  little 
child,"  said  Paula.  "  I  lost  my  muff  off  the  top 
of  the  Capitol  and  papa  scolded  me.  That's  my 
principal  impression." 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  207 

"  I've  half  a  mind,  if  we  like  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Sorchan,  "  to  poke  about  and  see  if  we  can  find  a 
nice  house,  and  stop  there  all  winter  just  for  the 
change." 

She  looked  sharply  at  her  niece  and  saw  an 
intensity  of  relief  flash  up  in  her  face  at  this  sug- 
gestion. 

"  Poor  little  thing ! "  thought  Mrs.  Sorchan, 
who  had  quick  perceptions  and  was  warm-hearted. 

The  return  to  the  fear  of  meeting  with  Nor- 
wood at  any  possible  street  corner  had  been  the 
torture  of  Paula's  ending  summer.  She  ran  across 
the  room. 

"  O  aunt ! "  she  said,  and  kissed  Mrs.  Sorchan's 
cheek. 

Lately  there  had  come  a  terrible  attack.  The 
mood  again  had  swept  her  with  fury  and  devasta- 
tion. She  had  thrown  herself  on  her  face  in  her 
room  up-stairs,  her  arms  stretched  out  like  one  cru- 
cified with  sorrow.  The  mood  had  come,  and 
brought  her  again  that  curious  form  of  self-re- 
proach, that  sense  of  having  been  for  a  moment 
inconstant  to  her  trouble.  It  wooed  her  back  to 
itself  now  like  a  chidden  child  to  a  parent's  arms. 
She  had  smiled,  she  had  danced,  she  had  even 
laughed.  Shame !  shame !  Sometimes  she  had 
been  as  one  who  seeks  some  old  haunt  sacred  with 
remembrance,  but  finds  no  reawakening  thrill, 


208  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

even  of  regret.  It  comes  again  at  the  next  visit, 
but  to-day,  nothing !  The  exhausted  nerve  centers 
have  simply  ceased  to  respond  ;  their  limitation  has 
been  reached.  To  the  inexperienced  this  inability 
to  suffer,  this  dull  apathy,  this  torpor,  is  more  ter- 
rible than  pain's  most  poignant  anguish.  It  is 
haunted  with  self -scorn ;  and  one  of  its  phases  is 
the  fear  that  it  is  eternal. 

Lying  face  downward  Paula  had  writhed  once 
more  under  all  the  old  feelings.  In  her  breast, 
pity,  love,  jealousy,  the  thirst  for  vengeance,  warred 
together  for  the  mastery ;  ay,  love  and  tenderness 
for  once  she  cried.  "  O  Norwood,  I  loved  you ! 
I  loved  you ! "  She  had  almost  said,  "  I  love  you !  " 
but  she  had  thrust  her  hand  over  her  mouth  and 
stifled  the  word.  Oh,  to  see  him !  Yet  the  horror 
of  it  made  cold  beads  pearl  upon  her  forehead. 
She  used  often  to  ponder  over  this  dread  likeli- 
hood. Walking  some  day  alone  or,  what  would 
be  worse  still,  with  others,  at  a  picture  gallery,  a 
church,  a  theatre,  face  to  face  —  her  husband ! 
What  should  she  do?  Should  she  flee  from  him, 
turn  away,  or  mayhap  fall  dead  of  the  shock  at  his 
feet  ?  God !  how  terrible  would  be  that  meeting  ! 
If  she  turned  from  him  then  he  would  keep  his 
hat  on  ;  he  would  not  uncover  to  her.  What !  He 
not  bow  down  and  uncover  before  her  ?  Then  the 
drop  of  fierceness  that  Singleton  Ackley  admired 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  209 

rose  to  choke  her.  If  he  did  not  uncover  before 
her  she  would  kill  him — she  knew  it.  He  must ! 
he  must !  What !  Her  husband  ?  Yes,  he  had 
been  that ! 

So  Washington  was  a  relief  and  respite.  At 
least  he  would  not  be  there.  She  had  not  dared  to 
ask  her  aunt  to  leave  her  home  and  habits,  but  she 
had  secretly  decided  to  suggest  seeking  one  for 
herself  alone  elsewhere,  anywhere  out  of  the 
dread.  She  had  seen  Norwood's  name  twice 
lately  in  the  paper  apropos  of  important  cases. 
It  seemed,  then,  he  was  still  at  'work — interested 
in  affairs,  rising,  progressing.  Once  he  had  wri- 
tten to  her  aunt  on  some  business  matter,  and 
that  was  all  —  all  since  that  awful  night.  The 
thought  of  his  silence  crushed  her  under  its 
grievous  weight.  He  was  right,  no  doubt.  What 
was  there  to  say  ?  Nothing.  But  she  resented  it, 
oppressed  and  wounded. 

They  found  Washington,  the  evening  they  ar- 
rived, drenched  in  an  autumn  moon  which  filled 
its  wide,  silent  streets  with  a  beauty  that  the. 
crowded  noon  would  quickly  dispel.  The  Capitol 
dome  hovered  like  a  great  white  winged  bird  over 
the  sleeping  avenues,  while  the  statues  and  the 
squares  with  their  lace  fretwork  of  foliage,  shone 
out  dark  against  a  bright  heaven  of  stars. 

"  I  had  forgotten,"  said  Paula,  leaning  from  the 
14 


210  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

carriage  window  as  they  drove  from  the  station  to 
the  hotel,  "  what  a  beautiful  city  it  is  after  all." 

The  next  evening  found  them  duly  seated  upon 
the  platform  whither  they  had  been  gallantly  pilot- 
ed by  the  organizers  of  the  opening  exercises. 
Among  the  wives  of  half  a  dozen  Representa- 
tives and  Senators  Madame  la  Presidente  her- 
self, brave  in  a  yellow-tulle  bonnet,  followed  by 
some  members  of  the  Cabinet,  was  ushered  in  to 
a  reserved  place  in  close  proximity  to  the  Sor- 
chan  ladies.  There  were  besides  two  or  three 
bored  diplomats  who  had  been  unwillingly  im- 
pressed into  the  service,  and  whose  restlessness 
found  relief  in  staring  at  Paula.  One  of  them,  a 
powerful  person  with  strong  calves  to  his  legs  and 
a  large  red  mouth,  was  somewhat  ardent  in  his 
regards.  He  was  the  Austrian  minister.  He  liked 
a  new  face  above  all  things ;  but  then  Paula's  was 
not  altogether  unknown  to  him.  He  had  failed  to 
obtain  an  introduction  to  her  at  a  garden  party  at 
Newport,  and  as  she  had  left  the  very  next  day  his 
lack  of  success  had  remained  a  regret. 

Mrs.  Norwood  and  her  aunt  were  duly  presented 
to  the  presidential  party,  and  when  the  President 
finally  entered  and  clambered  up  the  roughly-hewed 
wooden  steps  he  recognized  Mrs.  Norwood  and 
shook  her  hand  with  unaffected  republican  cordi- 
ality. 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  211 

The  large  hall,  around  whose  sides  were  ranged 
the  various  machines  and  electrical  wonders,  the 
works  of  the  dead  inventor,  was  filled  to  over- 
flow with  that  compact,  respectable,  good-humored 
American  crowd ;  well-to-do,  well-dressed,  well- 
mannered,  orderly,  without  one  salient  feature, 
without  one  striking  personality  —  colorless ;  the 
men,  earnest,  decent,  in  their  black  broadcloth, 
with  their  sallow  skins  and  patient,  keen  eyes ;  the 
women,  rarely  handsome,  generally  pretty,  with  a 
certain  nervous  petulancy  of  speech  and  an  effort 
at  style  in  dress. 

But  to  Paula,  whose  heart  was  swelling  within 
her,  that  ocean  of  countenances  seemed  to  be  look- 
ing up  lovingly.  One  or  two  introductory  speeches 
were  made,  more  or  less  eloquent,  with  that  flour- 
ish of  the  "  spread-eagle "  gesture  and  that  ready 
humor  of  men  accustomed  to  the  stump.  These 
were  varied  by  some  concerted  music,  and  at  last, 
after  the  principal  oration,  the  President  was  per- 
suaded to  get  upon  his  legs.  He  stood  with  his 
right  hand  thrust  into  his  breast,  the  other  held  out 
not  entirely  ungracefully  toward  the  heaving  mass 
below.  He  said  a  few  well-chosen  words — after  the 
first  burst  of  patriotic  cheering  was  quelled —  in 
praise  of  the  great  scientist  whose  memory  they  had 
gathered  together  to  extol  and  honor.  He  spoke 
calmly,  deliberately,  in  his  powerful,  harsh  tones, 


212  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

which  filled  the  room  and  pierced  even  to  the 
moonlit  street  where  eager  hands,  many  of  them 
the  dusky  ones  of  his  colored  brother,  were  raised 
in  plaudits.  Paula  was  sitting  only  a  few  feet 
from  him.  Suddenly,  bowing  in  acknowledgment 
of  the  repeated  salvos  of  applause,  he  stepped 
quickly  up  to  her  and  led  her  to  the  front  of  the 
dais : 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  amid  an  un- 
expectedly-fallen hush,  "  these  cheers,  I  know,  are 
not  for  me  ;  they  are  surely  intended  to  greet  Paul 
Sorchan's  daughter." 

A  wild  hurrah  of  excitement  swept  over  the 
multitude ;  three  times  hats  and  handkerchiefs  were 
raised  and  lowered,  while  the  building  rang  with 
turbulent  acclamations.  The  band  struck  up  "  Hail 
Columbia,"  amid  a  general  jubilee  of  sound.  Paula 
walked  about  afterward  for  a  moment  down  among 
the  people  upon  the  arm  of  a  long-haired  and  abun- 
dantly-bearded Senator,  but  she  could  not  speak  to 
him,  for  her  eyes  were  streaming  with  tears,  and 
he,  noting  her  emotion,  delicately  urged  her  to 
withdraw,  offering  to  find  her  carriage. 

With  her  handkerchief  still  held  to  her  face  she 
alighted  less  than  an  hour  later  with  Mrs.  Sorchan 
at  their  hotel.  The  latter  was  greatly  pleased  at  the 
ovation  they  had  received,  while  she  had  naturally 
shrunk  a  little  at  its  extreme  publicity.  The  Presi- 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  213 

dent's  impulsive  action  seemed  to  her  almost  in- 
discreet. 

"  It  would  have  been  quite  dreadful,"  she  said, 
"  if  it  hadn't  been  the  President." 

But  Paula  said,  "  O  Aunt  Amy,  I  can  not  tell 
you  how  happy  I  am  !  O  papa  !  my  darling  papa  ! 
They  do  not  forget  him  ! " 

So  it  seemed  that  she  had  borne  the  ordeal 
proudly.  She  tripped  up-stairs  to  the  room  which 
had  been  allotted  to  her  and  found  her  maid  sitting 
in  darkness  at  the  window,  awaiting  her.  Paula 
did  not  feel  like  meeting  importunate  eyes,  nor  was 
she  in  any  mood  for  words.  She  therefore  dis- 
missed the  woman,  telling  her  to  call  her  early  the 
next  morning,  that  she  and  her  aunt  had  planned  a 
house-hunting  excursion,  and  that  now  as  she  had 
letters  to  write  she  desired  solitude.  Lighting  the 
flaring  jets  of  gas  on  either  side  of  the  bureau,  the 
maid  bade  her  mistress  good-night,  and  withdrew. 
But  Paula  had  no  letters  to  write;  she  had  only 
wished  to  be  alone.  She  lowered  the  gas  a  little 
and  walked  up  and  down  the  floor,  still  filled  with 
the  exaltation  and  pride  of  her  late  experience. 
Ay,  this  new  homage,  this  adulation,  this  impor- 
tance, were  sweet.  They  were  growing  daily  more 
and  more  part  of  her  existence.  How  easy  for  the 
obscure  to  deride !  it  was  only  envy.  Yes,  it  was 
surely  sweet,  very  sweet.  To-night,  for  a  moment, 


214  A   PURITAN   PAGAN. 

she  had  felt  herself  raised  above  the  others,  looked 
up  to,  admired.  The  Senator  had  pressed  her  hand 
at  parting,  arid  told  her  that  she  was  lovely,  and  she 
had  stood  by  the  side  of  the  ruler  and  looked  down 
at  the  people  below,  and  they  had  tossed  up  to  her 
their  cries  and  hands.  She  realized  now  how  great 
actors  and  orators  must  feel  whose  mere  presence 
brought  hundreds  into  the  subjugation  of  awed  si- 
lences. 

Casting  off  her  pretty,  light  evening  costume 
and  bonnet,  she  began  to  move  swiftly  hither  and 
thither  about  her  room,  loosening  her  hair  from  its 
comb  and  singing  softly  to  herself  as  she  donned  a 
mauve  crepe  de  Chine  garment,  which  enveloped 
her  in  its  soft  folds.  She  had  kept — with  the  grad- 
ual increase  of  luxuriousness  of  taste  in  the  selec- 
tion of  her  toilets — a  distinct  preference  for  faint 
and  unobtrusive  shades  of  color.  She  perhaps  had 
never  looked  better  than  at  this  moment,  when  she 
seated  herself  before  her  mirror  and  began  to  pull 
out  and  disentangle  her  splendid  dark  hair.  The 
chrism  of  misfortune  had  touched  Paula  with  a  new 
beauty  half  guessed  by  herself,  divined  and  strongly 
potent  to  others.  Carking  cares  and  petty  anxieties 
will  harden  a  face  which  a  great  grief  softens  and 
dignifies.  The  loss  of  a  simple  heart  had  robbed 
her  of  her  girlishness.  The  change  had  lit  a  som- 
ber fire  in  her  eyes  which  made  strangers,  who 


A   PURITAN   PAGAX.  215 

would  have  passed  her  by  unnoticed  a  year  before, 
now  turn  and  look  again  with  question.  She  had 
always  been  interesting.  She  was  now  occupying. 

Directly  in  front  of  her,  pushed  back  against 
the  looking-glass  was  a  lace  pin-cushion,  ornamented 
with  a  knot  of  pink  ribbon,  which  her  maid  had 
brought  and  unpacked,  and  which,  with  those  vari- 
ous articles  which  adorn  a  woman's  dressing-table, 
was  displayed  with  a  praiseworthy  attempt  at  home- 
like effect.  As  her  eyes  fell  upon  this  bit  of  femi- 
nine finery,  she  became  aware  that  pinned  to  the 
roseate  bow  was  a  letter.  She  pulled  it  toward  her, 
unfastening  it  from  its  moorings,  with  an  indifferent 
nonchalance,  and  so  brought  it  within  the  radius  of 
her  vision.  What  could  it  be  ?  She  was  to  be  here 
only  two  days;  she  expected  nothing.  It  was  a 
large  envelope,  thick  and  sealed.  She  turned  it 
over.  In  a  moment  she  had  recognized  the  hand 
writing.  It  was  her  husband's. 

Robinson  Crusoe  when  he  first  met  the  foot- 
prints on  his  island  could  not  have  been  thrilled  to 
a  more  intense  agitation  than  was  Paula  at  this  dis- 
covery, and  the  missive  fell  from  her  hands  like  a 
stone  to  the  floor.  Its  contact  seemed  to  have  be- 
numbed her  fingers.  In  a  moment,  however,  she 
had  stooped  to  where  it  lay  at  her  feet,  and  held  it 
again,  helplessly  shifting  it  this  way  and  that.  It 
was  evidently  a  long  letter,  for,  as  I  have  said,  it 


216  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

was  thick  and  heavy.  Her  first  impulse  was  one  of 
terror  lest  she  should  be  tempted  to  open  it.  This 
formulated  itself  in  a  solicitation  to  hide  the  thing 
at  once  irremediably  from  sight  and  touch. 

"  How  dare  he !  How  dare  he ! "  she  said 
aloud. 

She  hurried  to  her  trunk,  in  whose  upper  tray 
lay,  she  remembered,  her  writing  materials,  but 
upon  flecking  open  the  pages  of  her  portfolio  a 
new  dilemma  presented  itself  to  her  excitement. 
She  found  that  it  contained  no  envelopes  wide 
enough  to  inclose  the  one  received.  She  had  a 
helpless,  childish  feeling  that  if  she  folded  it  in 
two  and  crushed  if  into  an  uneasy  space  the  seal 
might  break,  and  the  temptation  recur.  But  now 
she  remembered  that  on  leaving  her  house  at  the 
last  moment  she  had  received  a  photograph  of  Tad. 
She  had  thrust  it  into  her  traveling  bag,  and  here, 
in  fact,  she  found  it  safely.  It  was  the  question  of 
a  minute  to  remove  Tad's  smiling  effigy  and  thrust 
her  husband's  letter  into  the  large  envelope,  light 
her  sealing  wax  at  her  tiny  traveling  taper,  and  seal 
it  with  her  crest.  She  then  redirected  it  to  his 
office — somehow  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  the 
Riverside  address — in  a  hand  as  firm  as  she  could 
command,  stamped  it,  and  rang  the  bell.  In  less 
than  five  minutes  a  sleepy  nigger's  head  advanced 
into  the  doorway. 


A   PURITAN   PAGAN.  217 

"  Please  post  this  for  me  at  once,"  she  said  to 
him,  then  added,  "  when  is  the  next  mail  ?  " 

"  Yeth,  ma'am.  I  go't  ounthe,"  said  the  negro, 
and  disappeared,  unheeding  the  final  query. 

The  febrile  activity  of  the  whole  proceeding  had 
kept  her  up.  The  die  once  cast  the  reaction  fell. 
Fell  like  a  clod  of  earth  upon  a  grave.  For  months 
she  had  longed  for  this.  It  had  come  to  her,  and 
her  only  thought  had  been  to  throw  it  from  her,  to 
cast  it  away,  as  a  thing  loathsome  and  contaminat- 
ing. "  How  dare  he !  How  dare  he !  "  she  still 
murmured,  pacing  the  floor,  nursing  that  sense  of 
wrong,  of  outrage,  which  was  so  quick  to  flame  and 
burn  within  her.  Yet,  after  the  letter  had  defi- 
nitely gone,  it  is  possible  that  her  husband's  crimes 
looked  less  terrible  to  her  than  before.  Her  own 
triumph  and  his  discomfiture  made  them  dwindle  a 
little.  She  pictured  him  opening  the  returned  mis- 
sive; she  found  herself  wondering  how  he  had 
known  her  whereabouts ;  had  he  read  of  her  in  the 
papers,  those  revealers  of  secrets  ?  It  was  evident, 
then,  that  he  followed  her  movements.  A  vain 
flutter  of  satisfaction  at  the  thought  was  resolutely 
quelled.  Then  all  at  once  it  occurred  to  her  that  he 
was  possibly  ill,  nay,  dying,  and  that  this  was  a 
summons  to  his  bedside.  A  hand  of  ice  clutched 
her  heart,  kneading  it  as  if  with  a  pressure  of  iron, 
and  she  moaned  aloud,  with  a  strange  physical  pain. 


218  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

Would  she  refuse  to  go  to  him  even  then  ?  If  he 
were  dying,  would  she  refuse  ?  Would  she  turn 
away  and  let  others  close  that  fast  failing  sight 
strained  to  her  coming  ?  catch  that  faintly  faltering 
breath  before  it  ceased  forever  ?  Then  she  tottered 
to  her  bed  and  fell  upon  it  and  cried  again,  "  O 
God !  let  it  not  be  that !  not  that ! " 

Only  persons  of  imagination  can  portray  possi- 
bilities until  for  them  they  grow  into  actual  reali- 
ties. Before  morning  Paula  had  held  in  waking 
dreams  her  husband's  pale  head  upon  her  breast, 
had  wiped  away  his  tears  of  penitence,  had  whis- 
pered words  of  pardon  upon  his  lips,  nay,  had  her- 
self .  .  .  died.  The  dawn  found  her  spent  and 
wan  as  the  flickering  stars  whose  beams  were  melt- 
ing into  dimness  on  the  gray  horizon  of  a  rising 
day. 


CHAPTER  XY. 

THE  house  was  found  and  taken  for  the  winter 
months,  and  Mrs.  Sorchan  and  Paula  moved  to 
Washington.  It  was  a  pleasant,  rambling  edifice, 
situated  on  the  sunny  side  of  one  of  the  "  circles." 
Of  her  letter  Paula  had  not  spoken  to  her  aunt. 
It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  however,  that  this  tacit 
reserve  made  it  of  less  importance.  The  things  of 
which  one  never  speaks  are  rarely  insignificant. 

Mrs.  Norwood  experienced  at  this  period  a 
frightened  sense  of  needing  constant  distraction. 
She  was  following  Mr.  Ackley's  advice;  perhaps 
her  new  life  was  becoming  gradually  a  necessity  to 
her.  She  was  awakening  hourly  to  a  perception 
of  her  own  power — the  power  of  a  handsome, 
clever  woman  whose  position  is  somewhat  excep- 
tional, and  whose  motives  of  conduct  are  hidden 
and  therefore  piquant. 

The  Princess  came  on  with  a  party  of  friends 
early  in  the  winter  to  visit  at  a  gay  private  house, 
and  Paula  was  at  once  carried  on  the  pinions  of 


220  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

these  wassail  birds  into  the  midst  of  all  the  more 
elegant  festivities.  As  Paul  Sorchan's  daughter, 
whose  brief  apparition  in  public  on  that  memor- 
able evening  had  been  duly  recorded  by  the  press, 
she  had  gained  a  certain  prestige,  and  her  affilia- 
tions with  the  graver  official  world  had  been  estab- 
lished. The  Senator  who  had  conveyed  her  to 
her  carriage  on  that  occasion,  who  was  a  widower, 
had  brought  his  daughters  to  call  upon  her.  At 
a  reception  at  the  house  of  these  people  she  had 
been  presented  to  the  Secretary  of  State,  one  of 
those  married  men  whose  wife  is  always  conveni- 
ently in  mourning,  indisposed,  or  visiting  her  par- 
ents in  ...  Keokuk.  He  shook  hands  with  Paula 
as  he  did  with  a  hundred  other  women  daily,  and 
then  fell  in  love  with  her,  which  was  less  obligatory. 
It  may  as  well  be  said  here  at  once  that,  although 
an  ardent,  it  was  a  very  respectful  homage,  and 
that  her  own  white  wings  remained  uusinged.  The 
Secretary  of  the  Interior,  who  was  unmarried,  "  mag- 
netic," and  never  willing  to  be  outdone  by  his  col- 
leagues where  the  fair  sex  was  concerned,  followed 
suit ;  somewhat  limply,  it  must  be  admitted,  but  in 
these  things  the  good  disposition  goes  a  great  way. 
His  courtesies  were  as  valuable. 

Through  the  influence  of  these  magnates  the 
Sorchan  ladies  were  launched  at  once  into  political 
coteries,  even  attending  one  or  two  small  and  pri- 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  221 

vate  reunions  in  the  dreary  ugliness  of  the  White 
House  blue  room.  They  were  gallantly  piloted  by 
one  or  both  of  these  gentlemen  through  all  the 
official  receptions,  and  made  many  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances among  the  Senators  and  Representa- 
tives, who  escorted  them  of  a  morning  to  hear  the 
debates,  breakfasted  them  in  committee  rooms,  and 
seemed  to  have  a  special  care  for  their  welfare  and 
amusement. 

When  the  Princess  arrived  she  brought  Miss 
Piper  to  see  Paula,  and  "  Miss  Piper's  mother,"  as 
the  long-suffering  matron  was  called  whose  arduous 
occupation  it  was  to  chaperon  and  wait  upon  this 
nomadic  young  lady. 

With  Mrs.  Heathcote  Paula  drifted  into  another 
set,  that  of  the  diplomatic  corps,  that  of  the  strag- 
gling pleasure  seekers,  that  of  unofficial  residents, 
and  in  the  drawing-room  of  one  of  these  she  met 
the  Austrian  minister,  the  man  who  had  missed 
her  at  the  Newport  fete,  had  watched  her  at  the  ex- 
position, and  was  now  dying  to  make  her  acquaint- 
ance. He  was  wealthy,  a  bachelor,  and  d  la  mode. 
He  began  at  once  to  pay  her  an  incendiary  court. 
He  began  with  ruse.  He  had  an  object  in  view — 
he  wished  to  vex  and  wound  another  woman ;  and 
then  Paula  was  somebody  new.  But  toward  the 
end  of  the  season  he  became  infatuated  with  her. 
These  pretty  pastimes  have  their  tyrannies. 


222  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

Mrs.  Norwood  and  the  Princess  went  together 
one  evening  to  a  ball  at  the  British  Legation.  Sir 
Peveril  Lightpace  was  then  minister,  and  he  and 
Lady  Lightpace  and  five  of  their  daughters,  who 
had  long  feet,  white  teeth,  and  superb  hair — there 
were  four  more  married  ones  in  England,  they 
said — stood  in  the  front  drawing-room  to  receive 
their  guests.  Count  Hartman,  the  Austrian,  while 
calling  in  the  afternoon,  had  heralded  the  arrival 
of  these  ladies  by  loudly  extolling  their  elegance, 
beauty,  and  position.  He  had  spoken  of  Mr.  Heath- 
cote  as  a  distinguished  politician  and  possible  am- 
bassador, and  of  Mrs.  Heathcote  as  of  a  lady  high 
in  authority  and  of  recognized  importance  in  the 
social  world.  Sir  Peveril,  but  lately  landed,  took 
mental  note  of  these  names  as  he  sipped  his  tea 
among  his  worshipful  womenkind.  Fresh  to  di- 
plomacy, he  had  a  praiseworthy  determination  to 
make  no  blunders.  He  had  disliked  America  and 
Americans  cordially  before  he  crossed  the  Atlantic. 
Two  lonely  months  of  Washington  summer  heat 
without  his  family  had  intensified  this  aversion 
into  a  hatred  which  bordered  upon  monomania. 
Nevertheless,  he  had  been  told  that  the  Americans 
were  touchy,  not  to  say  resentful,  if  you  did  not 
incessantly  praise  and  flatter  their  modus  vivendi, 
their  manners,  their  institutions.  Having  learned 
his  lesson  with  many  a  wry  face,  he  now  forced 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  223 

himself  to  wear  a  smiling  mask  of  urbanity  that  no 
degree  of  acute  ennui,  no  extent  of  disapproval  or 
of  disgust  could  ever  eclipse.  He  had  one  son 
whose  future  advancement  might  depend  on  his 
father's  present  discretion  and  self-control.  Sir 
Peveril  stoically  accepted  his  horrid  fate. 

It  was  significant  of  his  novitiate,  but  easily 
explicable,  that  when  the  evening  of  the  ball 
arrived  he  mistook  Paula  for  Mrs.  Heathcote. 
Older  diplomats  make  even  graver  mistakes.  She 
became  instantly  the  object  of  his  almost  over- 
powering civilities.  He  offered  her  his  arm,  con- 
ducting her  to  the  ball  room,  while  the  Princess 
brought  up  the  rear  with  an  insignificant  secretary 
of  legation — Colonel  Heathcote  had  not  accom- 
panied his  wife  to  Washington.  When  they  en- 
tered, the  dance  was  in  full  swing.  The  great  room, 
bright  with  its  old-fashioned  curtainings,  its  crystal 
chandeliers  with  their  myriad  lights,  its  antique, 
showily  framed  mirrors,  its  palms  and  flowers 
which  deftly  concealed  the  musicians,  looked  cheery 
and  attractive  to  Paula's  eyes.  She  stood  under  a 
tall  exotic  by  Sir  Peveril's  side  watching  the  dancers 
for  a  few  moments. 

"  Your  name  is  as  well  known  in  Europe  as  in 
America,"  said  Sir  Peveril,  pompous,  gallant,  and 
an  fait. 

Paula  looked  up  somewhat  surprised. 


224  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  How  will  you  like  ...  er  ...  diplomacy  ? " 
he  went  on.  "  I  see  no  one  here  more  eminently 
fitted?" 

Paula,  not  comprehending  exactly  this  allusion, 
murmured  that  diplomatic  life  must  be  very  nice. 
"  But,"  she  added,  "  Sir  Peveril,  you  must  find 
"Washington  sadly  provincial  after  London." 

"  It  is  repose,  it  is  repose,"  said  Sir  Peveril, 
with  that  hunted  weary  look  on  his  handsome, 
regular  features  which  rarely  left  them  now. 

"  It  seems  rather  a  rush  to  me,"  said  Paula, 
"  but  then  I  am  only  here  for  a  short  time,  and  " 
.  .  .  just  then  they  were  forming  a  quadrille,  and 
a  Frenchman  came  and  asked  her  to  dance. 

He  was  a  second  secretary  she  had  met  at  New- 
port. He  had  not  then  been  thought  very  desirable. 
In  fact,  the  Princess,  for  whom  he  professed  a 
hopeless  passion,  had  warned  Paula  that  he  was  a 
"  terror."  He  had  a  shock  of  curling,  black,  rather 
greasy  hair,  a  pair  of  fine  eyes,  and  bad  teeth  ;  he 
turned  in  one  foot  when  he  walked,  and  had  always 
hanging  about  his  clothes  and  mustache  a  smell 
of  stale  cigar  smoke,  notwithstanding  the  violent 
essence  of  verbena  with  which  he  deluged  his 
pocket-handkerchief.  He  managed,  however,  in 
spite  of  his  halting  gait,  to  dance  the  quadrille 
with  considerable  Gallic  vivacity,  and  here,  in  the 
somewhat  motley  environment  of  the  capital,  he 


A   PURITAN  PAGAN.  225 

also  managed  to  appear  less  odious  than  he  had 
seemed  in  the  exclusive  atmosphere  of  "  Heathcote." 
Certain  people  are  wise  to  hug  their  anchorage. 

Almost  immediately  after  the  dance  Sir  Peveril 
returned  to  Paula,  and  the  Frenchman  elbowed  his 
way  through  the  crowd  and  wedged  himself  behind 
the  Princess,  who  was  sitting  at  one  end  of  the  ball 
room  under  the  Vice-President's  wing,  with  a  little 
court  about  her.  Sir  Peveril  took  Paula  in  for  an 
ice,  and  then  Lady  Lightpace  came  across  the  room 
and  spoke  to  her.  She  was  a  fair  and  buxom  dame 
upon  whom  the  frequent  taxes  of  maternity  seemed 
to  have  imposed  but  a  light  assessment. 

In  a  few  moments  Paula  was  asked  to  waltz  by 
Count  Hartman.  He  bore  her  rushing  round  and 
round  the  room  several  times  in  his  arms  until  the 
hem  of  her  gown  whirled  almost  to  the  ceiling,  and 
her  head  reeled  and  her  breath  failed  her.  Then 
stopping  shortly  he  brought  his  feet  together  and 
swung  her  dexterously  into  a  chair  close  to  Mrs. 
Heathcote,  while  he  faced  her  with  a  low  salaam. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  the  latter,  "  your  prog- 
ress has  been  a  source  of  intense  anxiety  to  me  and 
to  all  your  friends,  but  now  that  you  are  safely 
landed,  let  me  felicitate  you  and  Monsieur.  It  was 
wonderful." 

"  Ah  ! "    said  the  Count,  "  Madame   thinks  we 

foreigners  dance  too  quick." 
15 


226  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  please  the  American  ladies, 
whatever  one  does,"  sighed  the  Frenchman. 

But  Mrs.  Heathcote  did  not  deign  to  turn  her 
head  or  notice  his  comment. 

"We  move  more  slowly  and  reverse,"  said 
Paula,  still  gasping.  "  It  is  all  a  matter  of  habit." 

"  In  Vienna,"  said  Count  Hartman,  "  the  dance 
is  very  quick,  indeed.  The  music  has  a  fast  time. 
When  you  will  come  to  Vienna  I  will  show  you 
real  dancing." 

"  Heavens !  "  said  the  Princess.  "  You  and 
Mrs.  Norwood  did  well  enough  for  beginners.  See 
what  a  bright  color  in  her  cheeks  ! " 

Count  Hartman  looked  at  the  color,  and  his 
eyes  wandered  downward  over  Paula's  strong, 
young  throat  to  her  lithe  figure.  He  wondered  ex- 
actly how  long  it  would  take  to  win  her?  No  little 
time,  he  feared.  She  had  something  forbidden 
about  her  with  all  her  charm.  But  then  he  con- 
sidered himself  very  adroit  in  these  matters,  and  it 
was  much  better  so,  much  better.  He  preferred  a 
long  resistance.  The  preliminaries  were  always  full 
of  surprises,  they  furnished  pleasant  moments  and 
memories,  and  were  thus  not  all  lost  time.  He 
liked  cold,  difficult,  distinguished  women — vain  and 
sensual  egoists  generally  do.  A  monopoly  is  more 
possible. 

Paula,  flushed  with  the  exercise,  with  that  sense 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  227 

of  power  so  lately  stirred  of  which  I  have  spoken, 
of  whose  whispered  promptings  she  did  not  yet 
fully  catch  the  meaning,  happy  and  safe  near  her 
dear  Princess,  flattered  at  Sir  Peveril's  politeness, 
rocked  and  swayed  by  the  music,  exhilarated  with 
the  contact  of  this  throng  of  gay  people,  looked  up 
at  him  with  coquetry  from  under  her  dark  lashes. 
"  La  haine  dans  Paine,  V amour  dans  les  yeux" 
For,  while  his  attention  caressed  her  awakening 
vanity,  his  presence  inspired  her  with  a  strong 
physical  repulsion.  It  is  fortunate  sometimes  that 
men  are  not  admitted  to  wander  into  the  green 
rooms  of  a  woman's  favor. 

When  the  band  struck  up  the  march  for  supper 
what  was  Paula's  amazement  when  Sir  Peveril 
walked  with  stately  majesty  across  the  floor,  and,  in 
a  pause  of  the  dance  and  in  a  momentary  hush  of 
conversation,  conveyed  her  upon  his  arm  to  the  sup- 
per room.  Here  he  called  her  "Mrs.  Heathcote," 
and  the  imbroglio  was  cleared  up  with  much  merri- 
ment on  Paula's  side  and  a  rather  forced  laughter 
on  Sir  Peveril's.  But,  whether  sailing  under  her 
own  or  borrowed  colors,  from  that  evening  Mrs. 
Norwood  became  the  fashion.  In  so  doing  she  also 
began  to  rouse  jealousy,  envy,  and  uncharitableness, 
that  eager,  hungry-eyed  trio  that  wait  upon  the  feet 
of  all  success.  Their  secret  rancor  did  not,  I  fear, 
greatly  disturb  her.  Perhaps  she  knew  not  of 


228  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

them ;  she  had  a  faculty  for  inspiring  a  certain 
wholesome  fear,  and  few  would  have  dared  repeat 
to  Paula  gossip  about  herself.  Her  increasing  tact 
did  not  lessen,  but  seemed  to  increase  her  natural 
dignity  of  manner.  If  there  was  any  less  dignity 
of  conduct  it  was  certainly  not  apparent.  Probably 
thus  far  there  was  not.  No,  she  gave  no  heed  to 
the  strife  of  tongues,  and  for  sufficient  reason. 
"When  you  have  received  a  poignard  stab  in  your 
bosom  two  or  three  mosquito  bites  are  ineffectual  to 
arouse  serious  consideration.  There  are  advantages 
in  beginning  life  with  tragedy.  It  belittles  all  the 
rest  into  the  province  of  the  light  comic.  It  is  an 
immense  safeguard,  an  armor  of  protection,  to  be,  at 
bottom,  indifferent. 

"  Which  is  she  ? "  asked  a  lady,  craning  over  a 
neighboring  shoulder  at  a  crowded  reception  given 
by  the  Secretary  of  State. 

"There,  that  one  with  the  serious,  large  eyes. 
Do  you  think  her  pretty  ?  " 

"Not  exactly.  She  is  certainly  rather  strik- 
ing." 

"  Do  you  believe  all  the  stories  about  her  ?  " 

"  I  never  heard  any." 

"  You  know  she  is  separated  from  her  hus- 
band ? " 

"  Ah,  yes !  that  Norwood,  the  great  patent  law- 
yer." 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN,  229 

"  My  husband  lias  met  him.  Such  a  fine  fellow, 
I  hear." 

"  You  have  heard  the  stories,  then  2 " 

"No,  nothing  against  her  personally.  I  heard 
they  had  quarreled." 

"  Quarreled  !  That's  a  mild  word.  She  just 
marched  out  of  his  house  because  he  wouldn't  stand 
her  coquetries.  There's  no  smoke  without  fire,  de- 
pend upon  it,"  and  once  more  that  false  proverb  so 
long  foisted  upon  a  silly  and  credulous  world  was 
made  to  point  a  moral. 

"  I  don't  know,  I  suppose  not.     They  say  "- 
the   speaker  lowered   her   voice — "  that,"  and   she 
raised  her  chin  in  the  direction  of  their  host,  "  he  is 
crazy  about  her." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say.  The  old  fellow's  frisky  when 
madam's  away.  But  that's  mere  child's  play  com- 
pared with  the  devotion  of  Hartman." 

"What!  that  horrid-looking  fellow?"  said  the 
first  speaker.  "  I  consider  his  appearance  plebeian." 

She  had  tried  in  vain  for  months  to  lure  the 
Austrian  to  her  afternoons.  It  seemed  he  had  lost 
his  aristocratic  bearing  in  the  struggle. 

"  He  is  very  much  liked  here,"  said  the  other 
lady,  "  much  more  than  his  predecessor." 

She  had  no  especial  personal  ambitions,  and  it 
gave  her  even  more  agreeable  sensations  to  goad 
and  stiiis:  her  friends  than  her  enemies. 


230  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  He  can  make  a  woman  the  rage.  He  gets  all 
the  smartest,  prettiest  ones  at  his  soirees" 

"I  should  not  allow  my  girls  to  go  to  them. 
Heaven  only  knows  what  takes  place  at  them  ! 
He's  a  debauched  person,  I  feel  sure.  Only  look 
at  him!" 

"  Oh,  we  can  not  be  such  severe  moralists,"  said 
the  other  lady,  not  without  a  certain  asperity  in  her 
voice.  "  These  foreigners  have  to  be  admitted. 
Their  ideas  are  not  ours.  People  say  the  women 
are  quite  envious  of  his  marked  preference  for  this 
Mrs.  Norwood.  Do  you  know  him  well  ? " 

"  I  am  sure  she's  welcome  to  him,"  evading  the 
question.  "  No  decent  women  who  respect  them- 
selves would  go  to  his  house." 

How  she  and  her  daughters  would  have  flown 
thither  had  but  a  diplomatic  finger  been  raised  to 
beckon  them  in ! 

"  The  way  the  women  are  going  on  is  simply 
dreadful.  In  my  day  a  woman  who  was  separated 
from  her  husband  disappeared.  She  was  simply 
wiped  out.  She  did  not  brazen  about  and  flaunt 
her  disgrace  in  people's  faces  as  they  do  now. 
Times  are  changed,  Mrs.  Slade." 

"  Disgrace  is  a  strong  word,  my  dear ;  take 
care.  It's  the  first  sign  of  age  to  think  everything 
is  going  to  destruction.  You  are  old-fashioned, 
pardon  my  saying  so.  •  Men  nowadays  like  women 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  231 

who  have  some  '  go '  in  them.  My  son  won't  speak 
to  any  but  the  married  women,  and  thinks  the  girls 
dull  and  dowdy  in  comparison.  Of  course  he  ex- 
cepts  Bianca  Piper,  who's  such  a  success.  He  just 
raves  about  Mrs.  Norwood  and  that  beautiful  Mrs. 
Heathcote,  who  is  her  friend,  I  am  told,  and  takes 
a  great  interest  in  her.  Have  you  seen  her  ? " 

"  She's  another  woman  I  do  not  admire,  al- 
though I  hear  she's  such  a  leader.  I  am  not  influ- 
enced by  such  things  " — God  may  have  forgiven 
her  the  lie,  in  consideration  of  human  weakness— 
"/  like  modest,  retiring  women." 

Mrs.  Slade's  blood  was  kept  in  motion  by  the  in- 
spiriting assurance  that  her  pin  pricks  were  doing 
their  work  upon  the  mother  of  three  plain  and  neg- 
lected daughters.  The  conversation  was  here  inter- 
rupted by  an  upheaval  in  the  crowd  as  a  person  of 
consequence  was  announced.  It  was  resumed  a  half- 
hour  later  in  a  doorway  between  tea-cups  and  a 
draught  from  the  stairs. 

"  There !  now  you  see  her  distinctly.  What  do 
you  think  of  her  on  nearer  view  ?  Mrs.  Norwood, 
I  mean.  See  !  she  is  speaking  to  Count  Hartman." 

"  I  think,"  said  the  first  lady,  "  she  has  a  wicked 
face  ;  quite  like  a  desperate  character,  in  fact." 

Paula  was  looking  at  that  very  moment  with 
hatred  at  Hartman.  He  had  been  forced  to  turn 
from  her  to  answer  a  question  some  one  had  ad- 


232  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

dressed  to  him,  and  for  a  second  that  secret  dislike 
had  swept  over  her  expressive  features,  touching 
their  habitual  sadness  into  a  sinister  frown. 

Returning  from  a  breakfast  at  the  Pipers'  the 
mail  had  been  brought  to  her,  and  again  among  her 
letters  there  had  lain  a  second  one  from  her  hus- 
band. It  had  met  the  same  fate  as  the  first.  Then 
she  had  dressed  and  come  to  this  reception.  But 
during  the  moment  that  Hartman's  attention  had 
wandered  she  had  found  a  positive  relief  in  letting 
those  tell-tale  eyes  of  hers  say  what  they  felt. 
Not  knowing  herself  closely  watched,  she  had  rev- 
eled in  the  momentary  freedom.  Her  assuaged 
vindictiveness  toward  Norwood  was  always  at- 
tended by  these  curious  reactions,  a  dwarfed  realiza- 
tion of  his  offenses,  which  seemed,  on  the  contrary, 
to  exaggerate  what  was  offensive  in  other  people. 


CHAPTER  XYI. 

MRS.  HEATHCOTE  was  partaking  of  chicken  salad 
and  hothouse  strawberries  in  the  dainty  sitting- 
room  which  her  hostess  had  awarded  to  her,  and 
from  which  opened  her  sumptuously  appointed  bed- 
chamber. She  was  known  to  be  luxurious  in  her 
tastes — which  insures  to  a  guest  the  finest  suite  of 
rooms,  the  softest  satin  bed  cover,  the  most  delicate 
tea-cup,  and  the  best  attendance.  It  was  twelve 
o'clock.  She  had  declared  her  intention  of  remain- 
ing in  her  apartments  until  after  noon,  and,  in  a 
long,  white  cashmere  dressing-gown  bordered  with 
sable,  was  nursing  her  complexion  and  a  tendency 
to  dark  circles  under  her  sweet,  cold  eyes.  They 
brightened  into  warmth  and  surprise  when  a  card 
was  brought  up  to  her. 

"  Ask  her  to  come  up-stairs  to  me,"  she  said, 
and  in  a  few  moments  the  door  swung  open  and 
admitted  Mrs.  Sorchan. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  find  you  alone,"  said  the  older 
woman.  "  You  must  not  be  vexed  with  me  for  in- 


234  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

trading  upon  you  so  early.  I  wanted  to  catch  you 
before  the  world  snatches  you  up." 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Sorchan  ! " 

"  Of  course  I  came  with  a  purpose." 

"  Yes  ?    I  am  delighted." 

"  And,  of  course,  that  purpose  is  Paula." 

Mrs.  Heathcote  put  down  her  last  strawberry 
untasted  and  prepared  to  listen. 

"And,  first  of  all,  Mrs.  Heathcote,  I  want  to 
thank  you  from  the  depths  of  my  heart  for  all  you 
have  done  for  my  niece." 

"  I  *     Why,  I've  done  nothing." 

"  You  have  done  everything,  and  you  know  it. 
I  know  not  from  what  misery  you  may  have  saved 
the  child.  You  have  inspired  her  with  new  inter- 
ests, engaged  her  to  mingle  in  the  pleasures  of  her 
age,  reawakened  her  self-respect." 

Mrs.  Sorchan  spoke  quickly,  and  loosened  her 
cloak,  which  she  threw  back  energetically  from  her 
shoulders.  There  was  something  strong  about  her 
which  appealed  to  the  Princess. 

"  Paula  lacked  the  suppleness,"  said  the  Princess, 
"  which  society  teaches." 

"  Exactly ;  and  her  husband  is  a  very  clever 
man,  but  there  is  no  doubt  that  clever  men  are 
often  very  foolish.  Give  me  a  clever  man  to  make 
a  fool  of  himself." 

Mrs.  Heathcote  was  always  keenly  alive  when 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  235 

Norwood  was   mentioned.      She   wanted  to  know 
more  about  him. 

"  You  think  he  made  mistakes  ? " 

"  What  the  great  one  was  which  brought  the 
catastrophe  I  know  not,  but  I  said  then,  and  I  say 
now,  Paula  lived  too  much  alone.  She  mooned 
about  too  much  by  herself." 

"  I  fancy  her  bringing  up  had  been  unusual." 

"Senseless  in  many  ways,  but  her  father  never 
would  listen.  He  was  very  pig-headed,  and  Paula 
is  too,  when  she  gets  testy." 

"  She  is  very  amenable  with  me,  but  I  can  see 
that  she  is  a  woman  of  spirit." 

"  Spirit's  all  very  well,  but  a  man  doesn't  want 
to  come  home  and  find  a  lurid  person  sitting  about. 
I  dare  say  she  made  herself  disagreeable.  Paula 
was  probably  rather  ponderous,  and  men  like  to  be 
entertained." 

"  You  use  the  exact  words  Mr.  Ackley  did.  He 
calls  her  '  Tragedy. '  " 

"  Now  I  am  coming  to  the  point.  Her  hus- 
band is  writing  to  her,  and  I  want  you  to  talk  to 
her,  to  persuade  her  not  to  be  obstinate." 

"Has  she  told  you?" 

.  "  Told  me  ?  No.  She  never  tells  things.  She 
is  the  most  reserved  creature  I  ever  saw.  It's  op- 
pressive. But  the  mail  yesterday  passed  through 
my  hands,  and  ...  I  saw." 


236  A  PURITAN   PAtJAN. 

"  How  interesting ! " 

"  I  don't  know  how  interesting  it  is.  She's 
capable  of  returning  his  letters  unopened.  I've 
got  an  idea  that  she  does.  She's  very  proud.  But 
I  do  think  something  ought  to  be  done  to  further 
a  reconciliation,  if  that  is  what  he's  after,  and  i 
believe  you  are  the  only  person  who  could  influence 
her.  I  may  die,  and  then  that  girl's  alone  in  the 
wide  world,  and  she's  got  very  little  sense." 

Mrs.  Sorchan  grew  grave  as  we  do  when  we  men- 
tion the  subject  of  our  own  departure.  The  prob- 
able demise  of  our  friends  moves  us  less.  On  the 
whole  she  was  very  comfortable,  and  was  in  no 
immediate  hurry,  like  many  other  virtuous  matrons, 
to  enter  paradise. 

"  What  can  I  do  ?  She  never  has  opened  her- 
self to  me." 

"  Just  throw  a  bombshell  in  her  camp.  A  bold, 
sudden  question  has  laid  many  a  secret  bare." 

Mrs.  Pleathcote  shook  her  head.  "  Much  as  I 
love  Paula — she's  not  that  kind.  I  never  could 
feel  enough  at  ease  with  Paula  to  ply  her  with 
inquiries;  she  can  freeze  one  up  so.  But  I  do 
think  of  one  person,  Mrs.  Sorchan,  who  could 
help  us.'' 

"  Who  is  that  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Sorchan,  looking 
up  with  her  sharp  eyes. 

"  Singleton  Ackley." 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  £37 

"  Why  he  doesn't  know  Norwood,  does  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  does,  and  he  can  improve  his  oppor- 
tunity, become  his  friend,  if  need  be  and  I  tell  him 
to,  and  you  don't  know  how  shrewd  he  is,  and 
kind.  He's  a  Cavour." 

"  So  I  should  judge." 

"  They  say  Cavour  took  a  half-hour  to  persuade 
a  royal  princess  into  making  a  marriage  she  had 
refused  for  a  year  even  to  think  of ;  refused  not- 
withstanding the  special  pleadings  of  her  relatives 
and  the  commands  almost  of  her  kingly  father, 
thus  disappointing  the  anxious  expectancy  of  all 
political  Europe.  '  Give  me  twenty  minutes  with 
the  girl,'  he  said.  No  one  ever  knew  his  tactics, 
or  what  passed  in  that  single  interview,  but  she 
was  led  to  the  altar  by  the  man  she  abhorred  meek 
as  a  lamb,  without  one  protest  or  plaint,  three  weeks 
later." 

"  Cavour,  then,  is  the  man  we  want,"  said  Mrs. 
Sorchan.  "  Paula's  not  easily  led." 

"  And  nothing  can  be  done  quickly." 

"No,  it  may  take  years.  I  like  to  keep  her. 
You  understand  it's  only  for  her  own  good.  She's 
very  dear  to  me." 

"  She  often  speaks  to  me  of  your  kindness." 

Then  the  older  woman's  lips  trembled.  "  "We 
are  all  poor,  miserable  women,"  she  said. 

Mrs.  Heathcote  leaned  forward  and  pressed  her 


238  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

hand,  although  they  were  neither  of  them  senti- 
mentalists. 

"  I  don't  know  why,"  said  Mrs.  Sorchan,  wiping 
her  eyes  furtively  with  her  cambric  handkerchief, 
"  I  come  to  bother  you,  who  are  so  brilliant  and 
surrounded,  with  our  misfortunes.  It  is  an  unhap- 
py and  wretched  piece  of  business  enough,  but  you 
seem  to  have  a  care  for  the  child,  and  she  adores 
you." 

Mrs.  Heathcote  looked  at  Mrs.  Sorchan  re- 
proachfully. "  Oh  ! "  she  said. 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  make  no  apologies.  I  hate 
cant  and  talk,  and  I  think  you  do.  The  fact  is, 
I'm  distraught  about  all  this  ;  by  and  by  when  you 
get  back  to  town  perhaps  you'll  say  a  word  to  Mr. 
Ackley,  and  now,  adieu ! " 

They  parted  with  another  warm  pressure  of  the 
palm  over  this  new  treaty.  Plotting  for  peace  and 
not  for  conflict,  they  had  spoken  in  wrhispers,  like 
guilty  conspirators. 

The  Austrian  minister  that  evening  gave  a  stag 
dinner  to  the  diplomatic  corps.  The  night  was 
far  spent  when  all  but  his  last  guest  departed. 
This  guest  was  our  French  secretary.  The  two 
were  intimate  friends,  and  disliked  each  other 
intensely.  They  occasionally  waxed  confidential, 
which  was  probably  the  cause  of  their  mutual  con- 
tempt. To-night,  under  the  genial  influences  of 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  239 

wine  and  nicotine,  they  sat  in  an  inclosed  balcony, 
which  Hartman  had  taxed  his  private  purse,  and 
not  his  Government's  treasury,  to  transform  into 
a  conservatory.  It  was  redolent  in  midwinter 
with  June  blooms  and  fragrances.  The  two  men 
were  indulging  in  a  conversation  upon  that  thread- 
bare topic,  the  American  woman.  When  we  find 
them  the  fumes  of  the  feast  had  already  borne 
away  many  of  their  utterances.  They  were  finish- 
ing, not  beginning  their  argument.  The  French- 
man's name  was  Leon  d'Artige ;  he  was  a  pessimist, 
and  concluded  that  the  American  woman's  heart 
and  senses  were  adamant.  The  Austrian,  more 
hopeful  of  temper,  nursed  himself  in  the  belief, 
long  cherished,  that  no  woman,  of  any  nation,  rank, 
or  antecedents,  was  proof  against  the  pursuits  of  a 
lover. 

"  If  it's  not  the  third  it  will  be  the  tenth  that 
will  conquer,"  he  said,  making  rings  of  smoke 
ascend  from  his  big,  protruding  under  lip  up 
among  the  leaves  of  a  stiff  rose  bush.  "  The  thing 
is  to  be  that  tenth,  to  guess  your  moment.  But 
then,  some  men  never  gain  this.  One  requires 
patience,  skill." 

"  Oh,  in  the  second  and  third  classes,  I  don't 
know,"  said  the  Frenchman,  "  although  even  there 
there's  great  difficulty,  but  with  the  women  of  the 
world — it  is  impossible." 


240  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  Yon  don't  know  women,"  said  the  Aus- 
trian. 

This  was  nettling,  and  Leon  was  peppery,  but 
he  contented  himself  with  a  moan. 

"  Who  does  ?  Do  you  ?  Look  at  Mrs.  Heath- 
cote,  for  instance.  How  has  she  treated  me  ?  That 
woman  !  What  do  you  say  of  her  ?  Hein  !  " 

"  Mrs.  Heathcote !  "  and  Hartman  gave  a  whistle. 
"  You  fly  for  high  game." 

"  I  tell  you  they're  all  stone.  I  do  not  know  if 
it's  virtue  or  the  ice  water  they  absorb  in  such 
enormous  quantities,"  said  the  Frenchman  gloomily, 
"  but  I  repeat  it's  simply  impossible." 

"  Some  of  them  may  have  lovers  among  the 
.  .  .  the  .  .  .  natives,"  said  Hartman  tentatively. 

"  Natives !  Men  like  that  who  soften  their 
brains  paying  silly  court  to  young  girls!  I  tell 
you  the  American  is  afraid  of  compromising  his 
business  career  by  paying  serious  attentions  to  a 
married  woman.  Money  is  his  mistress.  He  hunts 
it  and  no  other." 

"  Were  you  ever  on  a  friendly  footing  at  the 
Heathcote  house?  The  husband  does  not  look 
exactly  accommodating." 

"  Oh,  she's  her  own  mistress — they  all  are  here. 
But  the  devil  take  me  if  I  see  for  my  part  what 
good  it  does  them,  and  what  pleasure  they  find  in 
this  eternal  playing  with  temptation." 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  241 

"  I  thought  you  imagined  American  women  had 
none." 

"  Call  it  what  you  choose.  Mrs.  Heathcote  re- 
ceived me  most  warmly,  asked  me  to  dine,  to  sup, 
to  dance — I  know  not  what — accepted  me,  and 
when  two  months  were  passed  ..." 

"  Two  months  ? " 

"  Two  months — I  was  exactly  where  I  began." 

Leon  could  boast,  too,  sometimes,  when  put 
upon  his  mettle,  but  wine  always  made  him  truthful 
and  morbid. 

With  a  fatuous  smile  Hartman  declared  :  "  You 
went  too  quickly,  and  then  you  attacked  a  goddess 
who  can  afford  to  be  capricious.  Her  own  men 
have  spoiled  her,  whatever  you  may  say  to  the  con- 
trary. You  are  too  easily  discouraged.  Why  don't 
you  try  for  somebody  else  ? " 

Leon  shook  his  head.  "  They  only  laugh,"  he 
said.  "  They  have  no  heart." 

"  Mrs.  Norwood,  now  ? "  asked  the  Austrian. 
"  Should  you  not  say  she  was  a  woman  of  heart  ? " 

"  She,  I  confess,  looks  more  serious,"  said 
L6on. 

"  She  is  charming,"  said  the  minister,  "  and  I 
will  acknowledge  to  you,  mon  cher,  that  I  am  in 
love  with  her." 

"  It  would  be  lost  time." 

Hartman  moved  impatiently.     "  There  are  men 
16 


242  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

and  men,"  he  said  under  his  breath.  "  I  sha'n't 
make  an  ass  of  myself." 

"  Then  you  love  not,"  said  Leon  with  a  sigh. 

"  Oh,  love,  love !  I  am  not  a  child.  But  I  can 
read  between  the  lines.  Her  heart  has  been 
wounded  and  it  is  ready  for  the  consolation.  It 
will  be  piquant.  I  do  not  care  for  easy  victories." 

Leon  looked  at  his  friend  and  disliked  him  more 
than  ever.  "  In  my  opinion  it's  only  a  restful,  unoc- 
cupied heart  that  has  time  for  love.  A  hurt  or 
crushed  one  will  not  give  itself  completely;  it  is  too 
much  occupied  with  its  pain.  It  is  as  unrestful  as 
a  coquette's  who  thirsts  only  for  conquest.  "Women 
are  nervously  more  highly  strung  than  we  are,  and 
their  emotions  are  more  single." 

"  You  ought  to  have  been  a  troubadour,"  with  a 
short,  contemptuous  laugh.  "  Mrs.  Norwood  is  dy- 
ing for  love.  It  is  written  on  her  whole  person, 
and  I  will  give  her  all  that  she  wants  by  and  by 
when  the  time  comes." 

At  this  moment  Paula  was  sitting  up  in  her  bed 
propped  by  pillows,  with  a  candle  in  dangerous 
proximity  to  its  curtains.  She  was  hurriedly  turn- 
ing over  the  large,  inconvenient  sheets  of  a  daily 
paper.  It  was  the  one  whose  political  tenets  recom- 
mended it  especially  to  her  husband's  perusal,  the 
one  he  conned  every  morning  over  his  coffee.  But 
she  did  not  linger  over  foreign  correspondence  or 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  243 

congressional  reports.  She  turned  feverishly  to 
find  the  Washington  "  society  items."  In  them  she 
read  of  her  own  movements,  of  her  gowns  and  tri- 
umphs ;  even  of  the  civilities  of  the  Austrian  min- 
ister, at  whose  legation,  it  was  duly  recorded,  that 
she  had  dined.  "  He  will  see  it,"  she  said  aloud. 
"  That  is  well."  Then  she  blew  out  her  candle, 
and  as  she  lay  in  the  darkness  she  thought,  "  I  will 
play  my  part,  I  will  play  my  part,"  which  shows 
that  Paula  was  not  a  slovenly  person  who  did  things 
without  purpose,  and  that  Hartman  had  found  his 
match,  in  spite  of  his  superior  knowledge  of  the 
world. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  first  weeks  after  his  young  wife's  flight 
were  remembered  ever  afterward  by  Norwood  as 
bringing  a  strange  torpor  of  sense  and  of  pulse,  a 
deadness,  a  moral  stupor  without  past  or  future. 
"  Sufficient  unto  the  day." 

I  have  said  that  the  servants  did  not  desert  him. 
The  attitude  of  those  who  serve  us  is  indicative  of 
our  own  toward  them.  He  had  been  a  kind  master 
to  them,  an  authoritative  one,  difficult  to  please,  but 
never  unjust.  They  liked  him.  He  was  still  the 
master  in  his  misfortunes.  The  pale  ghost  who  let 
himself  in  and  out  of  the  house  morning  and  even- 
ing with  the  regularity  of  an  automaton  was  not  a 
harsh  task-giver.  A  certain  hush  and  awe  had 
crept,  with  Paula's  absence,  over  the  entire  estab- 
lishment. Its  dusky  occupants  spoke  with  bated 
voices,  and  the  men  at  the  stables,  by  tacit  agree- 
ment, stopped  their  whistling  wrhen  the  master  came 
up  the  path.  Norwood  contrived  to  attend  to  his 
affairs.  It  was  mechanical  at  first,  but  custom  is 


A   PURITAN  PAGAN,  245 

strong,  and  they  went  well.  A  friend  came  into 
his  office  one  day  about  this  time,  and  invited  him 
to  join  him  in  a  railroad  speculation,  a  new  scheme 
which  promised  well.  Norwood  absently  wrote  off 
the  sum  he  would  invest,  and  tossed  it  to  his  visitor 
across  his  desk. 

"  Put  me  down  for  that,"  he  said.  "  I've  not 
the  time  to  become  a  director  or  to  bother  with  the 
thing  personally,  but  here's  some  money." 

In  a  few  months  it  had  realized  thousands.  So 
it  was  in  these  days  with  all  his  investments.  For- 
tune laughed  at  him,  heaping  up  an  ironical  million. 
And  yet  he  had  ceased  to  drive  hard  bargains  now. 
He  gave  to  the  poor  unostentatiously,  humbly,  and 
sadly,  as  one  who  understands  the  world's  suffering 
and  pities  it.  He  even  sent  a  handsome  sum  an- 
nonymously  to  the  man  from  whom  he  had  once 
extorted  the  large  fee.  "I  suppose,"  he  said  to 
himself  a  little  mockingly,  "  that  is  what  we  hear 
spoken  of  as  '  conscience  money.'  I'm  getting 
pious."  He  did,  in  fact,  now  and  then  of  a  Sun- 
day morning,  wander  up  the  hill  to  the  chapel  on 
the  Heights  where  he  had  been  married,  and  sat  in 
a  dark  corner  behind  a  pillar  close  to  the  door. 
The  droning  voice  of  the  old  clergyman  soothed 
him.  Sometimes  he  bent  his  head  forward  during 
the  prayers  and  Litany.  Once  he  was  lulled  to  a 
moment's  slumber,  and  when  he  awoke  he  heard  a 


246  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

flutter  beside  him  and  thought  it  was  Paula — Paula 
as  she  had  looked  on  their  wedding  day,  when  they 
had  knelt  together  side  by  side  for  the  blessing. 
Bnt,  no !  It  was  a  young  lady  in  a  smart  pink  bon- 
net who  had  come  into  the  pew  and  awakened  him, 
knocking  over  his  hat  and  cane.  That  was  all. 
But  his  heart  contracted,  and  the  agitation  of  the 
illusion  lingered  with  him  all  the  day. 

He  missed  her. 

He  could  sleep  now,  and  his  cleared  vision  saw 
all  as  it  was.  He  told  himself  that  it  was  hideous. 
As  the  weeks  passed  and  he  returned  slowly  to 
manhood's  normal  health  he  saw  and  judged  him- 
self. What  ?  He  had  driven  that  young,  shy  creat- 
ure away  from  him  into  the  streets?  His  wife? 
The  old  remorse  had  a  new  basis.  It  went  back 
farther  now,  to  the  very  beginning.  He  had  never 
loved;  he  had  never  loved  anybody  but  himself, 
never.  That  was  the  secret.  He  now  knew  all. 

One  day  of  early  autumn  he  wandered  aimlessly, 
holding  a  lamp  aloft  in  his  hand,  into  the  room 
which  Paula  had  occupied  before  their  marriage — 
her  girl's  room.  It  was  furnished  as  it  had  been 
then  and  always,  and  her  desk  was  still  kept  here, 
for  she  had  continued  to  use  the  apartment  after 
her  marriage  as  a  sitting  and  writing  room.  With 
the  portraits  and  other  objects  of  value  belonging 
especially  to  her  family,  her  papers  and  letters  had 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  247 

been  hastily  snatched  from  this  desk's  security  and 
sent  to  her.  It  was  empty,  rifled  of  its  treasures. 
He  put  the  lamp  down  on  a  neighboring  table,  and 
pushing  a  chair  before  him  sat  down,  mechanically 
pulling  open  the  desk  so  as  to  rest  his  arm  upon  it. 
It  was  large  and  old-fashioned,  and  he  began  fumb- 
ling through  its  drawers  and  pigeon  holes,  looking 
into  their  recesses  as  if  seeking  for  some  word, 
some  line  that  should  recall  a  lost  presence.  He 
started  once  and  glanced  over  his  shoulder.  Again 
he  had  fancied  that  her  light  step  was  on  the  thresh- 
old, but  it  was  only  a  gust  of  wind  blown  from  an 
open  window  in  the  hall. 

There  was  one  drawer  which  had  no  key  or  knob 
to  it,  and  was  evidently  what  girls  call  "  secret,"  a 
holy  of  holies,  into  which  precious  documents  and 
missives  are  thrust  and  kept  from  argus  eyes.  He 
unfastened  a  knife  from  his  watch  chain  and  be- 
gan to  pry  it  open.  It  resisted  at  first,  but  finally 
gave  way.  As  it  did  so,  in  its  depths  was  revealed 
a  gleam  of  something  white.  It  proved  to  be  a 
bundle  of  letters  tied  with  a  blue  ribbon,  and  on  a 
card  was  written  in  Paula's  handwriting,  "Letters 
from  Norwood  while  at  hospital  with  papa."  Un- 
der these  were  two  or  three  sheets  of  paper  rent 
from  some  scrap-book  or  journal  and  themselves 
torn  across  in  four  or  five  pieces.  It  was  evident 
they  had  been  intended  for  the  waste  basket  or  the 


248  A   PURITAX  PAGAN. 

burning,  and  had  been  carelessly  forgotten  here. 
He  rose,  arid  approaching  the  table  upon  which  the 
lamp  rested  undid  the  ribbon  and  began  to  read 
over  his  own  letters.  They  were  not  what  are 
called  love  letters,  in  the  exact  acceptance  of  the 
words.  They  were  free  from  all  terms  of  endear- 
ment, and  their  language  was  reserved,  almost 
timid.  But  they  were  full  of  life  and  freshness, 
and  as  Norwood  read  them  over  he  himself  realized 
their  penetrating  charm.  He  had,  in  fact,  as  I  have 
said  before,  an  epistolary  genius.  He  could  write 
with  that  eloquence  which  the  magnetism  of  large 
audiences  always  roused  in  him.  Men  who  knew 
his  gifts — the  strong  weapons  of  logic,  the  powers 
of  rhetoric  he  wielded  —  were  sometimes  disap- 
pointed when  they  encountered  him  in  the  lighter 
fencing  of  drawing-rooms.  He  was  too  thoroughly 
American,  too  earnest  for  the  trivial  brilliance,  the 
give,  take,  and  parry  of  the  social  repartee. 

He  did  not  find  the  perusal  of  these  old  letters 
very  gay.  We  have  all  probably  "  been  there,"  as 
the  slang  phrase  goes,  and  these  backward  journeys, 
if  sometimes  profitable,  are  not  cheerful.  A  curi- 
ous tightening  of  the  throat  warned  him  to  put 
them  by.  There  was  no  use  in  stirring  these  dead 
years  up.  They  were  over,  ah !  well  over,  the  years 
wherein  he  had  been,  comparatively  speaking,  an 
innocent  and  happy  man. 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  249 

He  tied  them  up  again  and  replaced  the  card 
with  Paula's  writing  upon  it  and  put  them  back  in 
the  same  place.  He  wondered  to  himself  why.  He 
then  gathered  the  torn  papers  of  which  I  have 
spoken,  and  again  neared  the  light.  It  was  only 
the  matter  of  a  second  or  two  to  fit  the  jagged 
edges  together  and  thus  to  reconstruct  the  writing 
upon  them.  There  were  only  two  or  three  pages 
torn  from  a  diary  or  record. 

This  is  w,hat  he  read  : 

"March  18th.  I  walked  alone  to-day  by  the 
river.  The  snow  lay  melting  in  light  piles  on  the 
brown  grasses  of  the  bank.  The  air  was  heavy. 
The  skies  were  of  a  uniform  somber  gray  color,  and 
as  I  walked  I  thought  of  you.  I  wondered,  as  I  so 
often  have  before,  if  you  love  me.  I  am  inexperi- 
enced ;  I  do  not  know  love.  But  this  is  not  what  I 
had  imagined,  what  I  had  thought.  Yet  if  it  were 
proved  to  me  that  you  did  not,  that  you  could  not 
love  me,  who  am  so  far,  far  your  inferior  in  every- 
thing (I  feel  and  see  this  daily.  I  lack  tact,  I  lack 
grace  of  mind)  should  I  have  the  courage  to  give 
you  again  your  freedom,  to  leave  you  ?  Something 
in  me  says  '  no.'  No,  I  must  die  near  you  .  .  . 
dear.  Let  me,  will  you,  die?  Yes,  I  sometimes 
have  felt  that  knowing  you  cold  I  might  still  love 
you  with  entire  abnegation  ;  bring  you  my  love, 
saying  'take  it,'  for  without  you  it  is  valueless. 


250  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

But  then  my  pride  rises  and  chokes  me ;  there 
comes  revolt  ..." 

Here  there  was  a  piece  torn  off  and  lost.  He 
turned  with  hands  that  shook  strangely  to  the  other 
sheet : 

"  May  9th.  I  love  you  with  passion.  I  have 
given  myself.  You  have  my  soul.  I  am  lost  in 
you.  You  frighten  and  possess  me.  I  am  yours. 
Oh,  terrible  thought!  Lost  in  another  who,  per- 
haps, is  not  all  mine,  for  sometimes,  sometimes  all 
the  charm,  the  beauty,  falls.  You  say  a  word  in- 
differently, you  turn  your  head  away,  your  eyes  are 
cold,  you  return  my  kiss  with  a  careless  manner. 
Oh,  the  agony !  Life  is  terrible !  I  know  I  am 
insufficient  for  you.  I  do  not  know  life.  I  feel,  I 
believe  you  are  a  good,  pure  man.  I  trust  you 
implicitly.  God  have  mercy  on  me  if  I  did  not ! 
But  you  wound  me  and  torture  me.  You  make  my 
heart,  my  poor  heart  that  adores  you,  bleed  and 
tremble  .  .  . 

"  May  16th.  Yesterday  I  hated  you.  It  was  a 
horrible  day.  I  hate  your  beauty  !  You  are  too 
handsome  for  me.  But  to-day,  dearest,  I  love  you 
again.  Love  me  a  little,  will  you?  Only  a  little. 
I  love  you,  darling !  " 

There  was  more  of  it.  It  was  all  in  the  same 
strain.  So  this  exquisite  young  soul,  instead  of 
pouring  out  all  the  wealth  of  its  youthful  fervor 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  251 

upon  his  breast,  where  it  should  have  found  shelter 
and  peace,  this  frightened  girl  he  had  held  in  his 
arms,  went  to  this  chill,  unanswering  paper  to  pour 
out  the  overflow  of  a  misunderstood  affection. 

Norwood  folded  the  pieces  together  and  rever- 
ently laid  them  back  into  the  desk  again.  He  was 
almost  afraid  to  touch  them  lest  these  stained  hands 
of  his  should  sully  their  passionate  purity.  But  he 
need  not  have  been  afraid,  for  at  that  moment  a 
miracle  had  taken  place  within  him.  Redemption 
had  become  possible  for  him,  nay,  was  nigh.  Love, 
the  conqueror,  stirred  within  him,  crying  for  light. 
When  he  had  put  the  burning  words  away  out  of 
sight  he  came  and  threw  himself  upon  her  narrow 
bed,  upon  her  child's  pillow  which  had  remained 
there  through  all  of  the  years,  and  it  alone  was  the 
silent  witness  of  his  bitter  and  stinging  tears ;  tears, 
which  as  they  fell  seemed  to  singe  and  scorch  his 
thin  brown  cheeks.  Yet  in  these  tears  there  was 
distilled  a  drop  tender  as  is  the  dew  of  a  new  dawn 
of  promise,  a  dawn  of  hope  on  a  veiled,  indistinct 
horizon.  He  remained  there  all  that  night.  After 
this  he  moved  his  things  into  this  room  and  made 
it  his  own,  sleeping  nightly  upon  Paula's  cot.  But 
before  he  slept  again  he  wrote  to  her.  It  was  the 
baring  of  the  man's  whole  being.  In  it  he  ac- 
knowledged that  he  had  not  fully  loved  her  before, 
had  not  known  her,  but  that  now  he  knew  her  and 


252  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

what  he  had  lost.  It  was  a  manly  letter — a  letter 
at  once  hard  and  easy  to  write,  as  are  the  words  we 
trace  in  our  own  blood. 

Then  he  had  found  out  where  she  was  and  had  sent 
it  to  her.  It  was  the  letter  which  Paula  returned  to 
him  from  Washington.  When  he  received  it  again 
he  was  alone  in  his  offices.  He  had  thought  she 
would  at  least  open  it.  He  had  been  overconfident. 
The  blow  was  a  severe  one.  He  was  about  to  tear 
it  up  in  his  discouragement,  but  something  seemed 
to  arrest  his  hand,  to  whisper  to  him  "  Wait."  He 
thrust  it  unopened  into  his  breast.  That  night  he 
placed  it,  still  sealed,  in  Paula's  desk. 

The  winter  passed  for  him  in  hard  work  and 
constant  toil.  He  worked  for  others  now ;  used 
his  talents  less  for  himself  than  as  a  citizen.  He 
became  more  and  more  widely  known  in  the  cur- 
rent of  men  who  struggle  and  strive.  If  she  heard 
of  him  it  should  be  with  pride.  Ever  and  anon  he 
wrote  to  Paula,  and  when  the  letters  were  returned 
to  him  he  put  them  away  with  the  accumulating 
pile  in  her  desk.  Some  day  she  would  find  them 
there,  perhaps.  Who  could  know?  If  he  were 
dead  she  would  read  them  then,  and  .  .  .  under- 
stand. The  thought  of  her  had  become  the  one 
dream  of  all  his  waking  moments  now.  He  read 
about  her  in  the  newspapers.  Sometimes  he  grew 
frightened.  Would  she  love  another  in  this  new 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  253 

life?  An  unreasoning  jealousy  would  then  seize 
him.  "  I  am  her  husband,"  he  said  to  himself, 
manlike,  "  they  dare  not." 

"When  the  next  summer  came  he  found  himself 
longing  for  a  free  access  to  the  woods  and  streams. 
His  old  peculiar  desire  to  be  lost  in  Nature  awoke. 
His  mother  was  in  Europe;  he  had  no  ties.  He 
shouldered  his  rifle  and  joined  a  friend,  a  silent, 
solitary  man,  who  respected  his  reserve  and  privacy, 
and  was  hence  congenial,  and  the  two  went  up  to- 
gether to  shoot  big  game  in  the  wild  Maine  woods. 

Norwood  was  changed.  His  hair  was  streaked 
with  gray  now.  Suffering  had  traced  indelible 
lines  upon  his  forehead.  His  lips,  so  full  and 
smiling  once,  with  their  redness,  parted  from  his 
white  teeth  with  a  sterner  expression.  His  broad 
shoulders  stooped  a  little.  His  friends  thought  him 
grown  very  old. 


CHAPTEE  XVIII. 

THE  day  after  Norwood  reached  his  first  stop- 
ping place — a  little  inn  which  lay  upon  the  outskirts 
of  the  hunting  region — he  went  into  the  rough 
stables  with  his  landlord  and  picked  out  a  small, 
shaggy  pony,  mounted  him — his  long  legs  incased 
in  high  hunters'  leggins,  almost  bringing  his  feet 
into  contact  with  the  dust — and  started  to  go  a  few 
miles  up  a  neighboring  hill  in  quest  of  a  guide  who 
had  been  recommended  to  him  as  eminently  effi- 
cient. A  competent  pilot  was  necessary  through 
the  trackless  waste  into  which  he  and  his  com- 
panion intended  to  penetrate.  His  way  led  up  the 
mountain  side  and  gave  him  a  distant  view  of  the 
sea.  The  noon  had  been  a  burning  one  ;  the  after- 
noon was  still  very  warm  ;  no  breezes  blew  from 
the  ocean,  on  whose  breast,  far  in  a  misty  zone  of 
calms,  a  myriad  ships  caught  in  the  doldrums 
swung  lazily  in  hopeless  apathy.  As  he  climbed 
the  steep  ascent  on  his  valiant  little  charger  the 
sun,  which  seemed  obstinately  high  up  in  the 


A   PURITAN   PAGAN.  255 

heavens  for  the  hour,  beat  rudely  upon  his  neck 
and  back.  He  thought,  with  a  sort  of  dismay,  of 
the  return  which  would  take  place  within  an  hour, 
and  how  extremely  painful  it  would  be  to  face  the 
glare  and  heat  which  he  was  now,  as  it  were,  leav- 
ing behind  him.  His  skin,  not  yet  kiln-dried,  as  it 
would  soon  become  by  exposure  to  the  elements, 
smarted  already  in  the  oblique  intensity  of  blinding 
blue  beams. 

The  country  which  surrounded  him  was  a  para- 
dise of  dreams.  Below  him  the  distant  sea  stretched 
from  a  rocky  promonotory ;  to  his  left  a  rapid  fall 
of  the  land,  suave  and  pastoral,  melted  into  fields 
where  two  or  three  laborers  were  driving  their 
ploughs  drawn  by  oxen.  They  moved  gravely,  with 
the  dignity  and  self-respect,  which  gives  little  and 
takes  nothing,  of  the  American  tiller  of  the  soil. 
Recent  rains  had  left  water  lines  in  the  furrows,  and 
a  mist  of  humidity  rose  like  smoke  where  their  in- 
dentures lay  upon  the  meadows.  Between  the  hill 
and  the  lowlands  were  fringes  of  colossal  trees 
whose  foliage  cast  fantastic  shadows  against  the 
background  of  a  brilliant  sunshine.  There  were 
no  sounds  except  those  vague  improvisations  of 
Nature  in  her  grandiose  mood — the  sigh  of  the 
distant  forest,  the  breaking  of  the  waves  upon  the 
rocks  below.  How  bountiful  and  beautiful  was 
Nature  1  To  the  man's  soul  she  spoke  to-day  a 


256  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

strange  and  confused  language.  She  told  him  of 
his  helplessness — of  the  helplessness  of  all  men  in 
spritual  warfare ;  she  seemed  to  whisper  of  aid 
in  his  need — in  such  a  crisis  as  had  found  him  un- 
prepared and  left  him  wrecked.  She  seemed  to 
hold  out  her  hand  to  him  generously  with  proffer 
of  consolation  in  its  open  palm.  Where  was  help  ? 
Had  any  man  ever  been  so  cursed  as  he  ?  This  was 
Paula's  thought  of  herself  when  she  lay  low  with 
the  "  mood  "  upon  her. 

To  dismiss  useless  broodings  he  urged  his  horse 
quickly  onward,  so  swiftly,  indeed,  that  he  had  soon 
reached  the  hilltop.  Here,  again,  he  found  a  small 
inn,  with  accommodations  for  a  few  travelers,  and 
he  dismounted,  announcing  his  errand  to  a  wild- 
haired  boy  who  emerged  from  a  neighboring  barn 
on  hearing  the  horse's  hoofs  resound  upon  the  hard 
ground-rock  pathway.  Norwood  threw  the  reins 
to  the  lad. 

"Is  it  Billy  the  Buck  your  wantin'  ?"  asked  the 
boy,  eyeing  him.  "  I'll  have  him  around  yere  in  a 
minnit,  sir." 

Having  answered  that  it  was  "  Billy  "  he  sought, 
Norwood  dismounted  and  entered  the  house.  He 
made  his  way  into  a  low,  ground-floor  apartment, 
which  was  evidently  the  best  parlor  of  the  establish- 
ment. The  room  was  deserted  and  smelled  musty. 
Its  principal  decorations  were  two  or  three  stuffed 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  257 

goshawks,  which  occupied  the  chimney-piece  and 
encumbered  the  etageres  with  majestic,  extended 
pinions  and  threatening  beaks.  Upon  its  walls 
were  a  few  cheap  prints.  But  it  was  cool  and 
dark,  and  therefore  pleasanter  than  the  outside  re- 
flections from  the  crude  whitewashed  walls  of  the 
hostelry  and  its  adjacent  buildings. 

Norwood  took  off  his  hat  and  began  to  fan  him- 
self with  it,  tilting  back  in  a  low  rocking-chair,  and 
wiping  the  perspiration  as  he  did  so  from  his  fore- 
head. Seeing  some  books  upon  the  marble-topped 
table  wliich  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room  and 
near  wliich  he  sat,  he  extricated  a  pamphlet  from 
among  them  and,  playing  with  it,  began  to  twist  it 
into  an  extemporary  fan.  As  he  did  so  its  title, 
which  was  in  a  somewhat  pronounced  type,  arrested 
his  attention.  It  was  this,  "  Mother,  will  father  be 
a  Goat  ? "  The  query  was  not  certainly  a  cooling 
one  as  propounded  to  an  already  overheated  soul. 
But  such  as  it  was  it  awakened  a  curiosity  stronger 
than  the  desire  for  a  draught  of  air,  and  Norwood 
found  himself  flecking  the  leaves  of  the  tract — for 
such  it  proved  to  be — with  a  good  deal  of  con- 
temptuous impatience. 

In  this  homily  it  was  set  forth  that  listening  at 
the  door  one  day — a  proverbially  dangerous  amuse- 
ment for  such  as  shrink  from  the  truth — the  father 

of  a  promising  boy  heard  his  offspring  ask  this  edi- 
17 


258  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

fying  question  of  the  wife  of  liis,  the  sinner's,  bosom. 
Immediately  struck  to  the  heart  with  humiliation, 
penitence,  and  remorse,  the  guilty  parent  fell  upon 
his  knees  and  "got  religion,"  then  and  there. 
Having  conned  this  lesson,  sucked  out  its  marrow, 
Norwood  cast  the  thing  from  him  with  an  exclama- 
tion which  I  regret  to  say  was  profane.  Was  it 
possible  that  there  existed  people  who  could  be 
awakened  to  a  sense  of  duty  or  of  moral  danger 
through  such  puerile  and  disgusting  methods  ? 
What  and  who  could  they  be  like — those  who  wrote 
and  read  such  stuff  as  this  ?  He  moved  nearer  the 
table.  Evidently  some  person  or  persons  piously 
inclined,  deeply  interested  in  religious  and  theologi- 
cal matters,  had  left  the  mark  of  their  visit  on  this 
secluded  mountain  top.  But  Norwood  found  the 
books  to  be  so  dissimilar  that  he  could  hardly  fancy 
them  to  compose  the  same  individual's  library. 
The  next  volume  he  took  up  bore  the  author's 
name,  that  of  an  English  divine,  evidently  of  the 
established,  and  even  very  much  established,  church. 
Its  appellation  was  "  Spiritual  Combat."  Opening 
it  at  random,  he  lit  upon  a  passage  which  treated  of 
the  joys  of  sense,  of  the  pleasures  of  the  flesh  and 
its  reprehensible  appetites,  and  of  the  imperative 
necessity  of  an  instantaneous  cutting  off  of  all  con- 
tamination by  forcible,  nay,  heroic  measures,  if  any 
progress  whatsoever  in  the  spiritual  combat  was  to 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  259 

be  hoped  for.  Among  other  recipes  for  extermi- 
nating the  animal  instincts  it  recommended  to  the 
young  man  who  should  be  inclined  to  regard  too 
leniently  the  snares  of  feminine  beauty,  the  imag- 
ining of  that  beauty  after  death's  decomposition 
had  set  in,  aiding  the  imagination  by  a  realism  of 
detail  to  whose  horrors  Dumas'  La  Dame  aux  Ca- 
melias  has  alone  initiated  those  who  have  had  the 
courage  not  to  skip  its  opening  chapter.  "With  a 
groan  and  a  sudden  sense  of  sickness,  Norwood 
again  thrust  the  second  book  away,  while  a  flood  of 
suppressed  pain  not  unmingled  with  anger  swept 
through  him.  "  Pah  !  "  he  said. 

Still  another  book  lay  upon  the  table,  a  larger 
one  this  time,  more  pretentious  in  binding  as  in  di- 
mensions. To  his  great  surprise  it  turned  out  to 
be  a  copy  of  Frederick  Robertson's  sermons.  This 
was  most  unexpected.  Once  before,  when  very 
young,  the  book  had  fallen  into  his  hands,  and  he 
dimly  recalled  a  discourse  which  at  the  time  had 
impressed  him.  He  now  hurriedly  glanced  through 
the  volume,  trying  to  find  it  once  again.  Yes,  here 
it  was.  He  remembered  it  perfectly.  The  subject 
matter  was  of  remorse.  How  sweet  and  cool  and 
sane,  in  the  best  spiritual  sense,  were  its  teachings 
after  the  lurid,  unnatural  strain,  the  morbid,  earthly 
futilities,  the  diseased  views  of  the  other  writers. 
He  felt  the  force,  the  intellect,  the  nobility,  like  the 


260  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

rush  of  another,  a  purer  atmosphere.  It  was  like 
a  lark's  song  rising  to  the  light.  The  lesson,  the 
injunction,  was  a  simple  one :  To  press  onward 
through  "  forgetfulness  of  the  past."  Repinings 
were  useless.  What  was  done  was  done,  absorbed 
into  a  part  of  human  experience,  an  atom  of  that 
great  mystery  of  man's  destiny  which  involves  us 
all.  Not  worth  much  regret,  not  much.  "  On- 
ward ! "  was  to  be  the  motto  and  the  atonement. 
Away  with  the  vain  frettings  which  paralyze  en- 
deavor, bringing  in  their  train  paresis  of  the  will, 
decay,  and  despair.  Here,  close  at  hand,  lay  repara- 
tion, rehabilitation,  hope.  They  bade  the  guilty  one 
look  up  ;  never  back.  Look  forward,  where  higher 
aims  and  aspirations  beckoned. 

When  "  Billy  "  came  in  he  was  still  reading. 

As  he  rode  home  he  remembered  the  glare  and 
the  heat  he  had  so  dreaded,  and,  behold,  they  were 
no  longer  here  !  A  crisp  wind  had  blown  up  from 
the  south,  ruffling  the  hillside,  and  rallying  upon  its 
wings  a  delicious  freshness.  He  drew  great  whiffs 
of  its  wooing  ozone  into  his  parched  and  panting 
lungs.  A  pile  of  gray  clouds  had  suddenly  banked 
themselves  upon  a  near  horizon  in  whose  dusky 
bowl  the  sun's  red  disk  had  been  swallowed  up.  A 
dampness  as  of  an  impending  shower  moistened 
the  air  with  the  acrid  fragrance  of  oak  and  alder 
and  ash,  mixed  with  the  tenderer  odors  of  rushes 


A   PURITAN  PAGAN.  261 

and  iris  and  scabious,  which  bathed  their  stems  in 
the  dripping,  dropping  coldness  of  a  mountain 
rivulet. 

Norwood  was  something  of  a  hylozoist,  and  he 
wondered  to  himself  if  all  these  wayside  flowers 
might  not  be  living  creatures  with  hopes  and  fears 
and  joys,  and  not  made  alone  to  minister  to  man's 
selfish  and  sensual  vanity.  It  was  a  pretty  conceit 
if  not  a  proved  one.  A  hum  of  insect  life  filled  his 
ears.  The  yellow  wagtail,  the  cricket,  myriads  of 
flies  with  gaudy,  gauzy  wings,  buzzed  about  his 
horse's  ears.  Lazily  rocked  upon  the  gusts  of  air 
there  was  a  rustle  of  bird's  wings  rushing  swiftly 
to  seek  shelter  before  a  threatening  gale.  So,  the 
homeward  journey  was  not  so  terrible  after  all. 
There  were  sights  and  sounds  enough  to  wake  up  a 
hundred  human  hearts  with  their  cheer  and  their 
promises. 

"  Forgetf  ulness  of  the  past."  This,  then,  was  the 
key.  He  hugged  it  to  himself  as  we  do  the  open 
sesame  of  the  lost  door  we  fain  would  open,  of  the 
hidden  treasure  we  fain  would  grasp  again.  A  fool 
can  ask  questions,  it  is  the  province  of  genius  to  an- 
swer them.  Here  was  an  answer  then — "  forgetful- 
ness."  God  grant  it  might  be  his  at  last!  And 
what  was  this  God  to  whom  his  heart  went  up, 
soaring  in  a  sudden  supplication  ?  An  anthropo- 
morphous being  or  a  mere  essence  which  pervaded 


262  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

a  space,  palpitating  with  its  presence  ?  What  mat- 
tered it?  God!  Even  for  those  foolish  writings 
he  could  now  feel  a  pitiful  indulgence.  Were  they 
not  the  blind  if  ill-directed  gropings  in  that  darkness 
which  had  well-nigh  overwhelmed  him?  a  longing 
for  freedom  ?  Their  very  grotesqueness  became 
pathetic.  Conscience,  no  longer  idle,  but  seeking 
wisdom,  truth,  and  power.  Let  such  as  are  spiritu- 
ally bankrupt  scoff  at  his  reflections.  To  those  who 
have  met  these  sudden  experiences  they  are  as  real 
as  the  quivering  intensity  of  love  and  of  life,  and 
how  few  have  tasted  the  true  meanings  of  these 
last! 

Nature  took  the  strong  man  into  her  loving  and 
comforting  embrace ;  the  rising  storm  lulled  his 
tired  head  upon  its  breast.  For  the  first  time  in 
months  a  sense  of  returning  youth  seemed  possible 
to  him,  nay,  of  happiness.  He  remembered  some 
words  he  had  once  read  :  "  Life  is  arid  and  terrible ; 
repose  is  a  dream  ;  prudence  is  useless.  Mere  rea- 
son alone  serves  to  dry  the  heart.  There  is  but  one 
virtue — the  eternal  sacrifice  of  one's  self."  ifes, 
that  was  it.  He  had  been  an  egotist.  Egoism  is 
blind  and  faithless.  But  what  of  love?  Love 
knows.  And  again  within  him  stirred  that  strange 
flutter  as  of  something  imprisoned  pulling  at  its 
chain. 

When  he  drew  up  at  his  inn  the  rain  began  to 


A   PURITAN  PAGAN.  263 

patter  on  the  piazza  roof.  In  a  few  moments  the 
surrounding  country  was  shaken  by  the  summer's 
tempest.  The  trees  snapped  and  bowed.  The 
leaves  whirled  across  the  valley  in  tornadoes  of 
hurrying  dust,  and  the  thunder  boomed  amid  the 
hurricane  athwart  the  near  and  distant  hills,  making 
them  reverberate  with  its  rumble  of  danger.  Stand- 
ing outside  upon  the  porch,  the  chill  wind  and  the 
lightning  in  his  hair,  Norwood  felt  once  more  that 
joy  in  nature's  wilder  aspects,  that  old  intoxication 
which  Paula  had  called  "  pagan,"  and  which  filled 
his  being  with  its  revel  at  the  grandeur,  the  de- 
lirium of  a  world's  unrest. 

But  deep  in  the  recesses  of  his  own  heart  a  new 
diapason  had  been  struck  which  transformed  all  he 
saw  and  felt  with  its  divine  completeness.  A  pur- 
pose which  should  presently  become  an  obsession 
awoke  within  him,  urgent  upon  his  mind,  his  will, 
his  energies,  vivid  and  forcible.  Would  it  be  fruit- 
ful ?  Must  the  aftermath  of  belated  harvests  ever 
be  dwarfed  and  poor  in  spite  of  labor  and  pain  ? 
Have  there  not  been  splendid  and  luscious  flowers, 
nay,  and  fruits,  which  have  budded  late  ?  Who 
shall  say  ?  A  great  purpose  with  its  belief  makes 
us  bear  a  charmed  life.  Norwood  felt  that  nothing 
could  touch  him  now.  Before  he  slept  he  wrote  to 
Paula  again — one  of  those  outpourings  which  re- 
lease an  overburdened  heart — telling  her  how  time 


264  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

itself  would  be  too  short  to  hold  the  meed  of  his 
repentance.  He  asked  her  timidly  if  a  whole  life's 
devotion  could  never  blot  out  a  moment's  folly  and 
its  terrible  blight.  He  implored  her  for  one  word, 
one  sign.  But  this  letter,  like  the  others,  was  re- 
turned in  less  than  a  week  unopened.  It  found 
hiiw  at  his  camp  fire  in  the  forest. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

ALL  exaltation  is,  of  its  very  nature,  ephemeral. 
Norwood's  was  no  exception.  His  was  to  be  none 
the  less  fruitful  of  resolve  and  effort  because  in  the 
early  dawn  of  the  following  morning  it  had  evapo- 
rated. He  was  a  keen  sportsman.  He  awoke  to 
remember  it,  and  that  his  guide  and  his  friend 
were  impatiently  waiting  for  him.  The  practical 
detail  of  the  day  forced  itself  upon  him.  The 
American  has  no  time  to  waste  in  dreams  or  even 
in  his  pleasures,  which  are  hurriedly  snatched  from 
engrossing  care.  He  must  be  up  betimes,  stirring. 
Nothing  is  more  fatiguing  than  to  watch  the  course 
of  a  national  holiday  in  the  United  States.  In- 
dolence is  a  tonic  ;  our  nation  prefers  quinine.  He 
had  come  up  here  to  hunt  the  deer ;  the  deer  must 
be  hunted. 

Soothed  to  sleep  by  the  sighing  winds,  by  the 
resinous  odors  of  the  pines,  he  felt  refreshed  when 
he  leaned  from  his  low  window  and  looked  out 
upon  a  jeweled  sky.  The  woody  hills,  sketchy 


266  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

and  indistinct,  their  evergreens  detached  in  somber- 
ness  upon  the  lighter  verdure  of  younger  growths, 
loomed  up  against  a  misty,  golden  day,  their  un- 
trodden distances  awakening  agreeable  reveries  in  a 
hunter's  breast  as  well  as  in  the  artist's  or  poet's 
imagination.  When,  an  hour  or  two  later,  Nor- 
wood found  himself  alone  in  these  woods,  separated 
by  the  chances  of  the  chase  from  his  companions — 
he  had  voluteered  a  brief  reconnoissance — he  peered 
with  a  delicious  sense  of  freedom  into  the  woodland 
recesses,  full  of  perfume,  twittering  with  the  light 
choruses  of  summer  birds.  The  salient  streaks  of 
sunshine  shot  aslant  his  pathway,  piercing  the 
tender  boughs,  speaking  of  calm  and  repose  to  the 
man  of  struggle  who  had  come  to  break  their  quiet- 
ness with  the  shock  of  his  own  restlessness ;  amid 
their  joy  and  life  to  cast  the  dissonance  of  suffering 
and  of  death.  The  ground  he  advanced  upon  seemed 
to  betoken,  as  he  had  hoped,  that  he  was  approach- 
ing a  feeding  place  for  the  deer.  Great  masses  of 
timber  alternating  with  spurs  of  rock,  half  moss- 
hidden,  and  bisected  with  streams  whose  pleasant 
trickle  cooled  his  intruding  shadow,  warned  him 
of  the  presence  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  forest. 

Hark  !  What  was  that  ?  Distinctly  he  had  heard 
close  above  him  upon  a  woody  crest  the  crackle  of 
boughs,  the  suggestion  of  a  stir,  the  crop,  crop, 
crop,  as  of  some  creatures  eating.  His  boots  made 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  267 

sucli  a  harsh  sound  upon  the  dry  twigs  and  slippery 
cones  that  he  instinctively  stopped  and  pulled  them 
off.  Then,  throwing  himself  on  the  ground^  he  ad- 
vanced painfully  enough,  crawling  serpent-like  up- 
on his  belly,  tearing  his  hands  upon  the  tentacles  of 
rock  which  protruded  from  the  soil,  his  eyes  half 
blinded  by  a  fine  vegetable  dust  blown  from  the 
long,  dry  grasses,  his  knees  full  of  spikes  and  his 
fingers  of  splinters.  He  finally  got  himself  so  near 
to  the  browsing  herd  that  he  could  almost  hear 
their  breathing.  He  could  see  that  there  were 
several  does  and  two  bucks  among  them.  The  older 
of  these  last,  a  superb  fellow,  attracted  Norwood 
by  his  splendid  head.  He  pushed  the  coarse  under- 
growth with  considerable  difficulty  from  before  his 
face,  and.  still  lying  low,  he  adjusted  his  rifle  and 
fired.  The  buck  he  had  aimed  at  wheeled  at  the 
shot,  while  the  others  fled  wildly  from  this  invis- 
ible foe  like  leaves  before  the  storm.  The  wound- 
ed animal  ran  a  hundred  yards  or  so  and  then, 
with  a  cry  of  agony,  pitched  on  his  head  down 
a  gentle  inclination  and  lay  quite  still,  apparently 
dead. 

Not  waiting  to  secure  him  Norwood  started  in 
full  pursuit  of  the  flying  herd,  sending  random 
shots  after  them.  One  doe  was  wounded  in  his 
endeavor.  Their  meat  being  better  than  that  of 
the  males,  Norwood  was  congratulating  himself  on 


268  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

a  good  supper  roasted  at  night  over  the  camp  fire. 
He  ran  up  quickly,  intending  to  finish  the  creature 
at  once  with  his  knife  and  then  return  and  see  to 
his  buck  which  had  not  moved  from  where  it 
had  fallen.  The  doe  lay  upon  one  side  panting,  its 
limbs  agitated  by  convulsive  throes,  but  seemingly 
more  through  fear  than  pain,  for,  upon  examina- 
tion, Norwood  found  that  its  wound,  although  bleed- 
ing profusely,  was  not  a  deep  one.  The  hot  pleas- 
ure of  the  chase  and  its  intoxication  were  upon  him. 
He  was  about  plunging  his  knife  triumphantly  into 
his  victim  when  she  turned  her  beautiful  head  and 
distended  nostrils  toward  him  and  looked  at  him. 
His  arms  dropped  powerless  by  his  side.  He  bent 
again  to  examine  the  wound,  probed  it  with  his 
finger,  then  springing  to  his  feet  and  over  a  fallen 
tree  to  where  a  tiny  rill  had  wojn  in  the  rock  a 
lake  of  cool,  dark  water,  he  stooped  and  dipped  his 
handkerchief,  returning  to  press  its  surface  into  the 
dumb  thing's  quivering  flank.  Again  she  looked  at 
him,  and  this  time  gratefully  with  large,  pathetic 
eyes.  They  were  Paula's. 

"  Am  I  growing  into  a  silly  school-girl  ? "  he 
thought,  washing  out  the  wound  he  had  made 
with  gentle  touches  and  rapid  skill.  It  was  at  this 
very  moment  his  friend's  flushed  visage  appeared 
just  over  an  edge  of  rock  with  an  expression  of 
such  mute  amazement  that  Norwood  could  not  help 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  269 

laughing,  although  it  must  be  confessed  he  felt 
rather  foolish. 

"  I've  been  watching  you  for  ten  minutes,"  said 
this  gentleman.  "  Don't  let  me  disturb  you.  If 
you  and  the  lady  prefer  to  be  alone,  say  so  at  once 
and  I'll  vanish." 

"  Billy  "  then  ran  up  brandishing  his  big  hunt- 
ing knife,  but  Norwood  warned  him  off  almost 
savagely.  "  Hold  off,"  he  said.  "  Don't  you  see 
that  I  have  given  her  her  life  ? " 

"  If  any  one  had  told  me,  Norwood,"  said  his 
friend  later,  "  that  you  were  chicken-hearted  at 
the  sight  of  blood,  I  would  have  given  him  the  lie. 
I  always  thought  you  a  hardy  plant,  and  tough. 
What's  the  matter  with  you,  old  man  ?  " 

"  Good-by,  my  dear,"  whispered  Norwood  to 
the  doe,  who,  with  a  moan  and  shiver  of  excite- 
ment, was  vainly  trying  to  get  once  more  upon  her 
slender  legs.  "  Next  time  you'll  believe  in  me," 
he  mumbled  in  her  ear.  "  If  ever  she  trusts  me 
again,"  he  murmured  to  himself,  "  I  am  saved.  I 
believe  in  God." 

The  balsamic  airs  of  the  forest  would  soon 
surely  heal  this  wound,  but  .  .  .  that  other  ! 

So  they  tramped  back  to  where  the  buck 
lay  dead  upon  the  slope.  They  carried  away  his 
superb  head  with  them,  borne  upon  the  guide's 
shoulders.  By  and  by  when  Billy  had  made  a  fire, 


270  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

a  small  one — a  drop  of  Indian  blood  in  him  had 
bred  contempt  for  the  white  man's  large  flame  to 
which  he  dares  not  draw  near — his  friend  tried  to 
chaff  Norwood  once  more,  but  something  in  the 
latter's  manner  quickly  quelled  the  spring  of  his 
humor. 

Norwood,  wrapped  in  his  blanket  that  night,  his 
head  on  his  pillow  of  boughs,  thought  of  a  strange 
duality  of  nature,  swift  currents,  reckless  impulses, 
a  pagan's  greed,  and  lust  for  pleasure  and  for 
riot ;  and  then  of  the  Puritan's  presage  of  guilt,  up- 
lifted finger  of  menace,  alarm,  terror-stricken  con- 
science, and  both — both  how  incomplete,  how  pitiful, 
how  poor !  A  powerful  intelligence  paralyzed  by 
feeble  purposes,  famished  asceticism  punished  by 
temptation,  joys  of  sense  poisoned  by  remorse.  He 
suffered  from  that  peculiar  doubt  which  besets  re- 
flective minds  as  to  whether  their  renunciations, 
their  exaltations,  be  not  base  calculation  after  all. 
"  If  she  trusts  me  I  am  saved."  Ay,  here  again  he 
sought  -reward.  Was  he  incapable,  then,  of  sacri- 
fice? But  the  poor  fellow's  last  years  had  been 
one  long  trouble.  A  pitying  destiny  was  even  now 
leading  him  into  flowering  ways  where  his  spirit 
should  find  peace.  Again  Nature  wooed  him  to 
listen  to  her  wild  and  mysterious  voices,  and  he  be- 
came attuned,  as  it  were,  to  the  tale  she  unfolded. 
A  distant  waterfall  lent  its  music  to  the  night,  and 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  271 

the  whispering  winds  in  the  brandies  above  him 
seemed  to  speak  to  him  of  a  Being  to  whom  the 
discords  of  time  and  space — the  inexplicable  prob- 
lems that  drive  men  to  despair — were  but  the  slight 
creaking  of  a  machinery  whose  jarring  threat 
would  by  and  by  result  in  perfect  work.  A  long- 
ing to  pierce  the  secret  and  know  all,  to  drink  more 
deeply  of  this  great  shrouded  wisdom,  drove  him 
in  his  loneliness  and  impatience  to  his  knees.  Be- 
fore he  slept  he  prayed. 

Destiny  is  as  various  in  the  shapes  she  assumes 
as  the  evil  elf  himself  who  decoys  and  taunts. 
When  she  ascended  to  Norwood's  offices  a  month 
later,  clad  in  the  portly  envelope  of  Singleton  Ack- 
ley, Esq.,  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  recognize 
the  coy  damsel.  Jkfr.  Ackley  was  slowly  puffing 
up  the  stairs  when  an  impetus  from  above  hurled  a 
descending  form  upon  his  surprised  bosom. 

"  Hullo  ! "  he  said. 

"  Hullo,"  said  the  person  thus  addressed,  right- 
ing himself,  and  clutching  the  railing  with  one 
hand  and  Mr.  Ackley  with  the  other,  leaving  the 
mark  of  a  dirty  finger  on  this  gentleman's  immacu- 
late shirt  front.  It  was  a  yellow-faced  man  in  a 
high  black  hat  and  with  a  long,  unpleasant  nose. 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  the  fact  is,  sir,  this 
rapid  descent  was  not  all  my  own  fault.  I  am  none 
the  less  obliged  to  you,  sir,  for  breaking  my  fall." 


272  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

Norwood  was  fanning  himself  on  the  top  of  the 
stairs  with  his  handkerchief.  "  I  am  delighted  to 
see  you,  Mr.  Ackley."  He  seemed  a  trifle  heated, 
and  pulled  his  cuffs  down  with  a  jerk  over  his 
hands,  "  Hum  !  " 

"  I  was  nearly  knocked  overboard,"  said  Mr. 
Ackley,  emerging  upon  the  landing. 

"  Ha,  ha,"  laughed  Norwood.  "  I  have  just 
been  administering  some  summary  justice  here. 
The  fellow  had  to  be  taken  by  the  nape  of  his  neck 
and  ousted  from  my  offices,  so  to  speak.  He  was 
offensive.  I  hope  you  are  not  hurt." 

"  The  injuries  I  have  sustained  are  not  perma- 
nent, I  think,"  said  Mr.  Ackley  with  a  grin,  read- 
justing his  eyeglass  and  looking  at  the  finger  marks 
upon  his  linen.  "My  laundress  can,  I  fancy, 
remedy  them.  But,  bless  me,"  he  went  or>,  "  what  a 
regal  place  you  have  got  here  !  Eeminds  one  of  the 
Winter  Palace.  Capital  flooring,  Mr.  Norwood. 
Where  do  you  find  this  mosaic  ?  " 

He  then  told  Norwood  as  they  entered  the  lat- 
ter's  private  rooms,  that  he  had  come  to  consult 
him  legally,  and  he  stated  his  business. 

"  That  is  not  much  in  my  line,"  said  Norwood, 
whose  largely  increasing  practice  was  making  of 
him  a  specialist. 

"  No  ?  Am  I  then  to  understand  you  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  me  ? " 


A  PURITAN   PAGAN.  273 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  Norwood,  in  his  short,  dry 
office  voice.  "  Perhaps  I  could  have  it  managed  for 
you.  My  partner's  here.  He  looks  after  that 
branch  of  the  law  for  me." 

"  I'd  be  obliged  to  you,"  said  Mr.  Ackley,  set- 
tling himself  squarely  in  his  seat.  He  had  come  to 
please  Mrs.  Heathcote,  and  he  had  no  idea  of  being 
treated  like  an  intruder,  or  of  being  thrown  down- 
stairs for  malfeasance  like  the  yellow  man.  The 
partner  was  called,  and  the  business,  a  trifling 
enough  matter,  placed  in  his  hands.  But  before  he 
left  Mr.  Ackley  had  invited  Norwood  to  dine  with 
him  the  next  day  at  his  club  with  a  party  of  men. 


18 


CHAPTER  XX. 

ONE  day  at  East  Brompton — where  she  and 
Paula  had  gone  for  a  summering  after  their  Wash- 
ington campaign,  Mrs.  Sorchan  gave  vent  to  an  ex- 
clamation of  interest  and  surprise  over  her  morning 
newspaper.  She  was  ensconced  in  a  large  arm-chair 
on  the  porch,  and  Paula  was  sitting  on  the  step 
with  her  hands  clasped  across  her  knees  and  with 
eyes  to  seaward. 

"  What  do  you  think  !  Colonel  Heathcote  has 
France." 

"  No !  Really  ?  How  delightful ! "  said  Paula 
springing  up.  "  My  sweet  Princess  wanted  it.  I 
am  so  glad.  Let  me  read." 

Then  they  perused  together  the  announcement 
that  Colonel  Heathcote  had  been  offered  and  had 
accepted  the  French  legation. 

The  next  winter  found  these  ladies — one  of 
whom  was  restless  and  unhappy,  and  the  other  of 
whom,  after  years  of  quietude,  was  not  loath  to 
gratify  that  love  of  variety  and  change  which  char- 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  275 

acterizes  nearly  all  Americans — in  Europe.  The 
love  of  home  is  just  developing  with  us.  Accumu- 
lated and  inherited  fortunes  now  only  for  the  first 
time  permit  of  inherited  homes,  the  Long  Island 
farmer  having  long  been  the  only  native  who  had 
the  true  aristocratic  appreciation  of  his  ancestral 
acres.  These  rugged  lovers  of  their  land  are  so 
curiously  like  the  Breton  in  their  passionate  attach- 
ment to  the  soil  and  hatred  of  strangers  that  one 
sometimes  wonders  if  they  have  not  a  drop  of  these 
hardy  warriors'  blood  in  their  veins. 

In  Paris,  it  is  needless  to  say,  Paula  was  warmly 
welcomed  by  the  Heathcotes,  whose  position  at 
home  and  wealth  of  easy  surroundings  had  placed 
them  at  once  on  an  agreeable  footing  in  the  French 
capital.  Mrs.  Heathcote's  beauty,  her  peculiar 
charm  of  manner,  her  brilliant  conversation,  and 
Colonel  Heathcote's  simple  dignity  having  made 
them  unusual  favorites  in  the  most  exclusive  and 
most  narrow-minded  of  circles — the  French  no- 
Hesse.  The  caprice  of  a  great  lady  had  introduced 
them  into  this  holy  of  holies  far  more  than  their 
official  position  could  have  done.  A  duchess  of  the 
old  soucke,  not  a  duchess  of  that  canaille  of  the 
empire,  as  she  would  have  termed  the  lesser  lights, 
who  bore  the  same  title  emptily,  a  duchess  whose 
dead  lord  had  been  a  peer  of  France,  had  put  up 
her  eyeglass  and  gazed  at  Mrs.  Heathcote  one  even- 


276  A   PURITAN   PAGAN. 

ing  across  a  ball  room  as  she  made  her  entrance 
between  two  foreign  diplomats. 

"  Who  is  the  lady  with  the  pearls  ? "  she  had 
asked  of  the  Count  de  Freysne,  an  elegant,  good- 
for-nothing,  delightful  person  who,  having  himself 
married  an  American  girl,  was  supposed  to  know 
all  the  passing  strangers. 

"  That,"  said  De  Freysne,  "  is  our  new  Ameri- 
can ambassadress,  my  wife's  compatriot." 

He  thought  this  sounded  better  than  "  minister's 
wife,"  and  would  do  as  well  for  ignorant  Parisian 
ears. 

Madame  de  Portes  did  not  care  much  for  De 
Freysne's  wife,  but  she  liked  De  Freysne  excess- 
ively. She  liked  him  riding  over  the  meadows 
close  to  her  side  in  those  famous  hunts  which  she 
yearly  organized  at  one  of  her  numerous  domains, 
and  she  liked  him  close  to  her  skirts  in  the  more 
conventional  atmosphere  of  Parisian  drawing-rooms. 
She  was  inclined  that  night  to  be  amiable. 

"  She  is  really  ires  bien"  she  said.  "  By  and  by 
you  may  present  her  to  me,  or,  perhaps,  since  she  is 
in  the  corps,  it  will  be  etiquette  that  I  seek  her." 

The  fact  that  Mrs.  Heathcote  had  shown  no  par- 
ticular alacrity  for  the  presentation  when  suggested 
to  her  had  probably  raised  her  in  the  eccentric 
Duchess's  estimation.  People  accustomed  to  be 
toadied  learn  to  respect  indifference.  At  any  rate 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  277 

she  took  a  fancy  to  Mrs.  Heathcote  then  and  there, 
and  presently  amused  herself  by  showering  civilities 
upon  her  which  others,  even  of  her  own  people  and 
political  convictions,  had  in  vain  struggled  for  years 
to  win.  It  was  a  whim. 

"  I  wish  you  to  meet  Madame  de  Portes,"  said 
Mrs.  Heathcote  to  Paula,  as  they  sat  sipping  after- 
noon tea  together,  resting  after  a  drive  to  the  Bois, 
in  the  cosy  boudoir  of  the  luxurious  hotel  which 
was  doing  duty  as  the  legation  of  our  frugal  re- 
public. "  She's  been  very  kind  to  me  in  many 
ways.  Her  salon  is  exclusive.  She  has  a  half-dozen 
chateaux,  gives  the  finest  hunts  in  the  country,  and 
her  house  in  the  Champs  Elysees  is  the  handsomest 
in  Paris.  The  tide  of  fashion  has  swept  even  these 
doughty  dames  from  their  fortresses  of  the  Rue 
St.  Dominique  across  the  Seine,  and  the  Duchess  is 
as  pleased  as  a  child  with  her  new  home.  She  will 
show  you  all  over  it,  and  it's  well  worth  seeing. 
And  now,  dearest  Paula,  tell  me  of  yourself.  Who 
did  you  have  on  board  ?  Were  you  ill  ?  You  are 
looking  superbly." 

"  I  am  sunburned  to  a  chip,  which  gives  me 
color.  I  am  well.  I  love  the  sea,  and  am  a  valiant 
sailor.  There  were  some  horrid,  faded  Connecticut 
girls  on  board,  who  flirted  with  the  officers.  When 
they  could  not  absorb  the  captain,  who  was  dirty 
and  smelled  of  whisky,  they  tackled  the  first  mate. 


278  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

He  used  to  get  red  when  the  older  of  these  girls 
looked  at  him.  I  wondered  why.  My  maid  gos- 
siped and  said  they  were  quite  dreadful.  They  were 
university  town  belles  ;  perhaps  this  explains  them. 
Then  there  was  a  young  physician  from  Elmira 
who  was  extremely  devoted  to  a  retired  actress, 
who  was  very  blonde  with  a  doubtful  complexion." 

"  Yes,  I  know  her,"  said  Mrs.  Heathcote. 
"  There  Is  always  one  of  them  on  every  ship  ;  one 
would  feel  in  danger  without  her ;  she  seems  to 
secure  safe  passage  for  the  other  women  on  board, 
.  .  .  and  who  else  ? " 

"  Aunt  Amy  discovered  an  agreeable  Boston  man, 
who  paid  her  assiduous  court.  I  think  she  rather/ 
liked  it,"  said  Paula,  laughing,  "  but  on  the  whole 
they  were  a  dreary  lot." 

"  If  you  hate  restraint  as  I  do,"  said  Mrs. 
Heathcote,  "  it  must  have  been  a  relief  not  to  meet 
acquaintances.  At  sea  people  are  bores.  I  crave 
the  movement,  the  spectacle  of  society,  because  I  am 
accustomed  to  it,  and  there  one  can  keep  people 
at  respectful  distances.  But  the  longer  I  live  the 
less  gregarious  I  become,  the  more  I  shrink  from 
close  human  contact.  So  few  people  are  companion- 
able. People  who  have  only  imagined  life  are  so 
tiresome  to  those  who  have  drunk  great  draughts 
of  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  Paula. 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  2T9 

"  "What  has  become  of  the  Connecticut  girls  ? " 
asked  Mrs.  Heathcote. 

"  Oh,  they've  settled  themselves  in  the  biggest 
hotel  they  could  find.  They  have  to  shop,  that's 
what  they  have  come  here  for ;  I  met  them  yester- 
day, on  the  march,  rattling  about  with  Dr.  Fluke — 
the  actress's  property — who  looks  upon  them  as 
upon  goddesses  of  wit  and  fashion.  He  seems  to 
have  grown  rather  ashamed  of  his  blonde  since  he 
landed.  She  appeared,  to  be  sure,  in  a  pea-green 
and  gold  costume,  and  a  battered  hat  and  plume  on 
her  yellow  wig  as  we  neared  Liverpool,  which  even 
staggered  Elmira's  large  indulgence/' 

"  I  am  sick  of  the  American  girl,  both  as  a  topic 
and  as  a  reality,"  sighed  Mrs.  Heathcote.  "  These 
dreadful  people  will  be  dropping  cards  here  to- 
morrow. What  am  I  to  do  with  them  ?  Will  you 
tell  me?  Keginald  insists  I  must  visit  them  all, 
fall  upon  their  necks,  hug,  and  make  them  welcome. 
Of  course  one  does  have  to  be  decent,  for  they  are 
Americans,  unfortunately.  It  is  so  odd  here,  Paula. 
One  never  sees  a  girl  at  all." 

"  Where  are  they  kept  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know.  One  sees  children, 
but  at  a  certain  age  they  disappear  and  only  emerge 
again  married.  They  can't  go  to  the  races  because 
of  the  demi-monde,  nor  to  the  opera  on  account  of 
the  ballet.  They  never  show  at  large  entertain- 


280  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

ments ;  they  have  their  own  dances  sometimes  when 
they  must  be  marrying,  but  I  have  not  yet  been 
initiated  into  one  of  these  secret  ceremonials,  al- 
though Madame  de  Fortes  is  threatening  to  carry 
me  to  one.  I  confess  it  is  a  relief  not  to  find  the 
silly  little  ideas  of  young  misses  aired  on  all  occa- 
sions. I  have  always  had  a  distinct  preference  for 
grown  up  opinions." 

"  Do  you  approve  of  the  French  method  of 
bringing  girls  up  ?  "  asked  Paula,  surprised. 

"  I  think  the  liberty  our  unmarried  women  have 
enjoyed  has  been  greatly  overdone,"  said  Mrs.  Heath- 
cote.  "  It  can  not  hurt  a  pearl  like  you,  Paula ; 
you  are  proud.  But  every  woman  is  not  proud. 
The  sort  of  freedom  which  existed  with  our  great- 
grandmothers,  when  customs  were  simple  and  men 
worked  hard  and  there  was  not  much  money,  did 
very  well.  But  now  we  are  getting  a  class  of  idlers ; 
luxury  has  crept  up.  Oh,  it's  very  nice,  of  course, 
but  a  certain  purity  in  the  way  of  looking  at  things 
is  lost ;  there's  a  greater  laxity  of  speech  now,  too, 
between  the  sexes ;  things  pass  which  formerly 
would  have  shocked  and  scandalized  ;  then  there  is 
no  conviction  in  religious  training.  I  pretend  to 
no  extraordinary  piety  myself,  but  I  sometimes 
wonder  how  it  will  work  in  the  future.  We  have 
a  good  solid  backbone  of  Puritanism,  whose  vigor 
was  bred  into  our  bones  and  muscles.  But  our 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  281 

children  ?  how  will  it  be  with  them  ?  and  with 
theirs  ?  It  is  a  wide  subject,  and  may  well  make  us 
ponder.  I  believe  that  young  people  should  be 
controlled." 

"  But  here  the  women  are  reputed  to  be  ill-be- 
haved after  marriage.  Surely,"  said  Paula,  "it  is 
worse  than  before." 

"  No,  it  isn't.  It  depends  upon  what  you  call 
behaving  ill.  The  memory  of  a  studious,  serious 
girlhood  is  a  great  safeguard  to  a  married  woman. 
Such  was  mine,  and,  believe  me,  dear  Paula,  I  know 
of  what  I  speak.  A  perverted  girl  rarely  makes 
a  sensitive,  delicate-minded  woman.  But  if  she 
really  must  turn  out  badly  then  I  think  the  longer 
she  puts  it  off  the  better,  don't  you  ? " 

"  How  clever  you  are ! '.' 

"  We  are  always  making  a  pother  about  our 
girls  being  misjudged  ;  they  are  not  misjudged  in 
the  least,  unless  by  their  fathers  and  mothers. 
American  parents  often  seem  to  me  stupidly, 
wickedly  ignorant  of  human  nature.  It  is  high 
time  American  fathers  looked  after  their  daughters 
better,  were  more  vigilant." 

"  You  remind  me  of  one  of  Feuillet's  heroes, 
who  shared  your  opinions." 

"  You  sometimes  remind  me  of  his  tempestuous 
heroines ;  but  am  I  like  a  man  ? " 

"  You   are  like  a  mind  which  may  belong  to 


282  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

either  sex,  with  its  philosophy  and  its  humor, 
dearest  Princess.  I  lack  both.  Let  me  sit  at  your 
feet  and  learn  ? " 

"  Are  you  still  very  unhappy,  my  little  Paula  ? " 

"  Very,  yes.  But  I  am  at  rest  when  near  you." 
Paula's  dark  eyes  looked  up  wistfully. 

"  I,  too,  have  suffered,"  said  Mrs.  Heathcote. 
"  I  loved  once  and  unhappily.  It  will  not  leave  rny 
heart.  I  shall  not  speak  of  it  again,  only  I  want 
you  to  understand  that  I  know.  It  is  dreadful,  the 
pain  of  it." 

"  Ah !  I  was  sure,"  said  Paula.  "  I  saw  it  in 
your  face  by  the  dear  old  Riverside  years  ago." 

"  I  wish  you  could  open  yourself  more  to  me, 
Paula,"  the  Princess  then  said  to  her,  but  Paula 
shrank  a  little,  paling. 

"No,"  she  said,  "it  is  too  terrible.  I  have 
tried ;  I  can  not," 

"As  you  will,"  said  Mrs.  Heathcote  sadly. 
"  Yes,  my  dear,"  she  went  on  after  a  pause,  but 
more  lightly,  "  I  wanted  my  breakfast  one  morning, 
and  they  would  not  bring  it  to  me  ;  I  wanted  the 
moon  ;  but  who  knows  ?  perhaps  it  is  green  cheese, 
after  all — a  delusion.  Mr.  Ackley  says  nothing 
could  ever  satisfy  my  longings.  I  don't  know. 
Perhaps  not ;  not  now  at  least.  I  did  what  I  could 
with  what  was  left.  I  have  had  courage." 

"  Oh  I "  said  Paula,  with  the  fire  of  enthusiasm 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  283 

upon  her  lips,  "  You  have  the  courage  to  help 
others,  to  raise  them  when  they  are  sinking.  Was 
it  not  your  dear  and  beautiful  hands  which  were 
stretched  out  to  me  ?  Can  I  ever  forget  ? " 

"  Now,  my  child,  don't  let  us  get  lachrymose  and 
retrospective.  Ellen  Tree  said  no  tears  and  no 
emotions,  that  was  the  only  complexion  salve  worth 
purchasing.  Come,  and  I'll  show  you  our  new  ball 
room.  It's  redecorated  and  quite  splendid.  We've 
a  dance  on  the  carpet  for  to-night  at  which  you're 
to  make  a  profound  sensation."  Mrs.  Heathcote 
rose.  On  her  way  she  turned ;  "  Reginald  is  so 
very  generous  to  me,"  she  said. 

Paula's  quick  perceptions  understood  the  deli- 
cate impulse  of  this  last  tribute,  and  she  pressed 
Mrs.  Heathcote' s  hands  in  her  own. 

"  How  extraordinary  the  difference  between  peo- 
ple!" she  murmured,  as  they  lifted  the  portiere  that 
led  through  two  or  three  lesser  drawing-rooms  to 
the  great  white  one  beyond  them. 

"Why,  naturally." 

"  You  have  that  adorable  superfluous  which  is 
everything — no  one  can  explain,  it  is  too  subtle." 

"Havel?" 

"  More  than  any  one  else.  I  am  so  proud  of 
you  here." 

Then  they  fell  to  admiring  the  new  decora- 
tions. 


284  A   PURITAN   PAGAN. 

"  Who  do  you  think  have  arrived  here  ? "  said 
Mrs.  Heathcote.  "The  Nailers.  Tad's  just  the 
same  as  in  America ;  delighted  with  everything. 
He's  the  most  amiable  creature  I  ever  saw.  She  is 
younger  and  more  foolish  than  ever.  She  has  fast- 
ened herself  on  the  American  colony,  and,  thank 
God,  has  given  up  all  aspirations  for  native  social 
triumphs.  It  would  have  been  quite  impossible.  I 
could  not  possibly  have  undertaken  her." 

"  Who  else  is  here  ? " 

"  As  to  men,  quite  a  number  of  drifting  Ameri- 
cans, and  two  or  three  English  attaches ;  the  kind 
one  calls  '  nice  fellows,'  that  never  make  a  wom- 
an's pulses  beat  a  whit  the  faster,  shadowy  shapes 
doomed  forever  to  haunt  the  outskirts  of  Paradise 
like  Dante's  phantoms.  They'll  all  be  at  your  feet, 
and  you'll  be  as  safe  as  they  would  be  with  Mrs. 
Nailer — she  has  her  paw  on  one  or  two  of  Tad's 
cronies  already,  but  they're  growing  restive,  and 
when  you  appear.  .  .  " 

"  I  shall  never  learn  coquetry ;  I  take  every- 
thing seriously." 

"  Not  these  ;  you  could  not." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  manage  to  be  extreme  ;  hate  or  pity 
them,  or  something." 

"  No,  you  won't.  Mr.  Ackley  and  I  have  done 
you  infinite  good.  You  have  improved.  He  used 
to  call  you  Tragedy." 


A   PURITAN  PAGAN.  285 

"  Did  he  ? "  said  Paula,  laughing.  "  How  saucy 
of  him  !  What  do  you  hear  from  him  ? " 

"  A  great  many  things  that  might  interest  you, 
but  that  I  shall  not  divulge." 

"  What  can  they  be  ? " 

"You  may  know  some  day  when  the  time 
comes." 

Paula  wondered  what  her  friend  could  mean. 
Mrs.  Heathcote  had  lately  heard  from  Mr.  Ackley 
that  he  had  seen  Norwood,  and  that  a  certain 
friendliness  was  growing  up  in  their  relations. 

"  Shall  I  call  for  you  to-morrow  to  take  you  to 
see  Madame  de  Portes  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Heathcote. 
"  To-night  there  won't  be  time  for  us  to  make 
plans." 

"Is  it  worth  while?" 

"Quite,"  said  the  Princess  decidedly,  "and, 
Paula,  look  your  prettiest  both  to-night  and  to-mor- 
row. I  wish  to  exhibit  you.  You  are  not  like 
every  one  else  ;  that  is  your  chic.  See  that  your 
gowns  carry  this  out." 

"  Worth  has  just  deigned  to  send  me  two  made 
up  hastily,  but  they  are  as  queer  as  you  could  de- 
sire, and  Aunt  Amy  and  Sophie  say  becoming." 

"  I  wish  I  had  time  to  run  in  and  see  them,  but 
it  is  impossible  to-day.  I  have  to  superintend  the 
placing  of  the  plants,  and  here  they  come  this  very 
minute." 


286  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

Some  men  began  to  mount  the  wide  stairs,  bear- 
ing up  in  their  arms  huge  palms  and  tall  flowering 
shrubs,  so  Paula  made  her  adieus.  She  drove 
straight  home  to  the  pretty  apartment  which  her 
aunt  had  taken  for  a  few  months  in  one  of  those 
convenient  and  cheerful  quarters  of  the  town  where 
pilgrims  from  other  lands  are  wont  to  congregate. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

HAVING  slept  late  after  the  dance  at  the  lega- 
tion, which  had  been  spirited  and  had  brought 
Paula  a  new  insight  into  diplomatic  mysteries,  she 
drove,  after  her  breakfast,  to  Mrs.  Heathcote's,  and 
the  two  ladies  had  themselves  conveyed  to  the  hotel 
of  the  Duchess  de  Portes.  Two  or  three  gayly 
liveried  lackeys  piloted  them  at  once  through  a 
wide  marble  vestibule  and  across  an  antechamber  or 
two  into  the  presence  of  their  hostess.  This  visit 
was  by  appointment — Mrs.  Heathcote  having  asked 
permission  to  present  an  intimate  friend — and  was, 
therefore,  at  a  much  earlier  hour  than  ceremony 
would  have  dictated.  They  found  the  Duchess  en- 
tertaining two  friends — a  young  married  woman 
and  her  mother,  who  had  evidently  breakfasted 
with  her.  They  were  in  street  costume,  but  hatless 
and  gloveless  like  herself.  The  older  ladies  were 
smoking  cigarettes,  the  younger  one  was  embroid- 
ering initials  in  the  corner  of  a  cambric  pocket- 
handkerchief. 


288  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

The  apartment  into  winch  Paula  and  Mrs. 
Heathcote  were  ushered  was  vast  and  lofty,  and 
therefore  in  no  wise  encumbered  by  its  variety 
of  artistic  furniture,  costly  bibelots,  screens,  mir- 
rors, lamps,  pictures,  plants,  and  flowers.  With 
its  group  of  chatting  women  and  its  bright  wood 
fire  it  presented  a  cheerful,  homelike  appearance. 
It  was  paneled  with  faded  blue  damask  of  an  an- 
tique pattern,  and  the  hangings  at  the  windows  and 
doors  were  of  the  same  material  and  color.  The 
bowls  of  richly  petaled  pink  roses  which  stood  about 
on  the  various  tables  were  brought  into  bright  relief 
against  this  dim,  almost  dusky  background,  as  well 
as  the  glinting  surface  of  innumerable  sconces  and 
chandeliers.  The  general  aspect  of  this  salon  was 
one  of  luxurious  comfort.  The  Duchess  rose  to 
greet  her  visitors,  and  introduced  them  in  turn  to 
her  friends,  the  Countess  de  St.  Pierre  and  the  Mar- 
quise de  Fougeres. 

Madame  de  Portes  was  in  appearance  no  wise  re- 
markable. She  was  short  and  inclined  to  stoutness, 
although  her  waist  was  tightened  into  moderate  di- 
mensions, thus  accentuating  somewhat  forcibly  what 
was  below  and  what  above  the  line  of  her  snugly 
drawn  belt.  She  had  a  red  complexion  that  re- 
sembled flowered  damask,  like  that  of  the  women 
of  the  Deccan,  and  a  small,  white,  fat  hand.  She 
appeared  to  be  about  forty.  She  was  attired  in  a 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  289 

short,  dark  walking  dress,  and  her  hair  was  rather 
disheveled,  as  if  she  might  have  thrown  off  her 
bonnet  in  haste. 

"  I  went  out  before  breakfast,"  she  said,  readjust- 
ing a  loosened  tress,  but  made  no  apology  for  the 
simplicity  of  her  toilet.  She  received  Paula  as  if 
she  had  known  her  always,  and,  after  the  first  greet- 
ing, paid  but  little  attention  to  her.  She  resumed 
her  animated  talk  with  the  elderly  Marquise,  which 
seemed  to  be  apropos  of  a  certain  Madame  Hoguon 
who  was  not  in  society,  who  was  thirsting  to  be  ad- 
mitted, and  who  was  abetted  in  her  aspirations  by 
the  gentlemen.  Against  Madame  Hoguon  these 
ladies  launched  forth  tirades  of  considerable  fero- 
city, stating  well-authenticated  reasons  why  this  up- 
start should  be  definitely  tabooed.  Mrs.  Heathcote 
seemed  au  fait  as  to  this  bit  of  gossip,  was  ap- 
pealed to  and  drawn  in  to  give  her  opinion  about 
Madame  Hoguon's  delinquencies,  social  and  moral. 
Paula,  sitting  somewhat  apart,  began  to  feel  a  little 
hurt,  began  to  wish  she  had  not  come.  She  could 
not  but  admire  Mrs.  Heathcote's  nonchalant  atti- 
tude. It  is  a  safe  one  always,  it  commands.  There 
was  no  eagerness,  as  of  one  who  tried  to  please  ;  it 
was  evident  that  she  tacitly  expected  to  be  pleased. 
She  had  always  been  a  sovereign ;  she  had  no  inten- 
tion of  abdicating. 

"  How  I  envy  her !  "  thought  Paula.    "  But  this 
19 


290  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

ease  is  not  given  to  every  one.  The  Princess  is 
anxious  that  I  shall  appear  well.  I  fancy  reticence 
and  silence  will  be  the  safer  method."  They  are 
apt  to  be  when  one  is  embarrassed. 

Madame  De  Fougeres  was  a  lady  of  about  sixty. 
She  wore  a  black-crape  cap  upon  her  reddish- 
blonde  hair,  which  was  dressed  in  smooth  bands 
and  was  scarcely  streaked  with  gray,  a  black  bomba- 
zine skirt,  and  a  short,  loose  jacket  of  the  same  ma- 
terial. Her  features  were  pronounced,  but  regular 
and  handsome.  She  had  been  in  her  day  considered 
a  great  beauty,  so  Paula  was  told  afterward.  Some 
years  before,  at  the  death  of  an  only  son,  she  had 
assumed  this  extreme  severity  of  costume.  The 
simplicity  of  her  attire  was  only  relieved  by  a  half- 
dozen  magnificent  rings  she  wore  on  her  shapely 
fingers.  They  and  the  cigarette  and  the  distinctly 
worldly  spice  of  her  conversation  struck  Paula  as 
incongruous  to  her  nun-like  garb  and  aspect.  Her 
daughter,  Madame  de  St.  Pierre,  who  was  also 
fair,  had  a  small,  turned-up  nose,  and  a  pair  of 
pretty,  sly,  golden  eyes.  She  was  exquisitely  dressed 
in  a  sort  of  half-mourning.  There  was  something 
about  her  fine  and  fastidious. 

While  they  chatted  round  the  fire  a  servant 
came  in  and  said  that  Laurent,  Madame  De  St. 
Pierre's  maitre  d'Mtel,  had  just  come  from  this 
lady's  house  bringing  a  message  of  importance  from 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  291 

Monsieur  le  Comte.  An  exclamation  of  annoyance 
escaped  tlie  younger  woman,  but  she  smiled  amiably, 
and  asked  that  Laureiu  should  be  sent  in  to  her  if 
Madame  de  Fortes  permitted.  Madame  de  Fortes 
expressed  her  willingness,  and  Laurent  soon  made 
his  appearance.  He  was  a  respectable  old  gray- 
haired  person,  evidently  an  heirloom. 

"  I  have  a  telephone  from  the  station,  Madame 
la  Comtesse,"  he  said,  standing  near  the  doorway, 
"  and  Monsieur  le  Comte  will  be  at  home  to-mor- 
row morning." 

"I  expected  as  much,"  said  Madame  de  St. 
Pierre  impatiently.  "  Jacques  is  coming  home 
because  his  uncle  is  dead.  It  is  simply  insensate. 
I  shall  tell  him  so.  Je  lui  rirai  au  nez.  Why ! 
Have  I  not  buried  the  old  gentleman  myself? 
Have  I  not  attended  to  his  son,  who  wanted  to 
kill  himself  ?  What  has  Jacques  to  come  home 
for,  will  you  tell  me  ?  It  is  too  provoking !  " 

"  Jacques  is  an  excellent  fellow,"  said  Madame 
de  Fongeres.  "  He  is  shocked  at  the  news ;  he 
hastens  home." 

Somehow  Paula  thought  she  detected  a  tremor 
of  malignity  in  the  older  lady's  voice,  notwith- 
standing her  soft  words. 

"It  is  ridiculous,"  said  the  daughter,  and  a 
hunted,  weary  expression  crept  over  her  childlike 
features. 


292  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  Laure  wanted  a  .  -.  .  little  rest,"  said  the 
mother  apologetically. 

"  I  really  thought  he  was  off  for  a  month," 
said  Laure  ;  there  were  tears  in  her  voice.  "  He 
talked  of  Egypt ;  that  is  a  long  way — "  and  then, 
to  Paula's  amazment,  she  turned  to  the  old  servant. 
"  Is  it  not  absurd,  Laurent,  for  my  husband  to  re- 
turn when  he  has  always  hated  all  the  De  St. 
Pierres,  and  his  uncle  in  particular  ?  Haven't  you 
often  heard  him  say  that  he  hated  his  uncle  ? " 

"  Perhaps  Madame  la  Comtesse  has  forgotten," 
answered  Laurent  reflectively  and  with  quiet  re- 
spectfulness, "  that  the  Jury  d'Orleans  sits  next 
week,  and  that  Monsieur  wished  to  assist." 

"  That,  too,  is  such  imbecility,"  broke  in  Madame 
de  St.  Pierre.  "  These  politics  are  ruinous.  But,  no, 
he  had  given  that  up ;  he  had  promised  not  to  re- 
turn for  a  month." 

"  I  think  Madame  la  Comtesse  is  mistaken," 
said  Laurent,  still  in  the  same  respectful  key.  "  I 
think  it  must  be  for  the  jury ;  Monsieur  le  Comte  was 
bent  upon  it.  I  do  not  think,  Madame  la  Comtesse, 
that  he  ever  gave  it  up,"  and  he  backed  out  of  the 
room. 

"  You  must  make  up  your  mind  to  be  very 
much  pleased,"  said  Madame  de  Fougeres  suavely, 
"  and  go  and  meet  your  husband  to-morrow  morn- 
ing. It  must  be  conceded,  however,"  she  con- 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  293 

tinned,  turning  to  her  hostess,  "  that  Jacques  de- 
tested his  uncle,  and  God  knows  the  uncle  was 
detestable.  Never  was  a  bad  word  said  at  the 
table  down  at  the  chateau  that  it  was  not  that 
animal  who  said  it." 

"  He  was  horrible !  "  said  Madame  de  St.  Pierre ; 
"  yet  I  have  done  everything ;  I  have  put  on  mourn- 
ing. Now  Jacques  will  arrive  and  insist  that  I  can 
not  go  to  the  opera.  I  intended  sitting  in  the  back 
of  the  loge  to-night — in  black  tulle  and  diamonds, 
of  course,"  she  added,  as  if  this  respect  to  the 
defunct's  memory  was  a  work  of  supererogation. 

"  I'll  see  that  no  one  interferes  with  you,"  said 
Madame  de  Fougeres,  with  another  gleam  which 
shivered  through  Paula  a  sense  that  she  would  not 
care  to  encounter  this  lady's  opposition,  and  which 
made  her  feel  a  sudden  sympathy  for  the  impend- 
ing son-in-law. 

"  He  made  a  good  end,  did  he  not  ?  "  asked  the 
Duchess. 

"  Yes,  a  beautiful  end,  which  was  a  consolation 
to  his  son,"  said  Madame  de  Fougeres  cheerfully. 

It  was  evidently  this  lady's  opinion  that  some 
deaths  were  eminently  desirable. 

"  He  had  everything  that  religion  could  do  for 
him,"  said  Madame  de  St.  Pierre.  "  I  attended  to 
that.  It  was  most  necessary.  And  Mademoiselle 
Patte  Blanche's  jewels,  which  she  had  returned  to 


294  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

him  at  her  death — he  was  in  a  terrible  state  then — 
don't  you  remember,  mamma  ?  He  desired  to  throw 
himself  out  of  the  window;  he  was  very  much 
attached  to  her — all  the  jewels  he  had  given  her 
will  now  be  sold  for  the  poor." 

"  You  will  now  have  to  marry  your  cousin  to 
somebody,"  said  the  Duchess,  "  and  here  are  some 
lovely  American  ladies  to  recommend  an  heiress  to 
us,  for,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  De  St.  Pierre  leaves 
his  son  very  little." 

"  I  would  undertake  Louis's  wife  socially,  mes- 
dames,"  said  Madame  de  St.  Pierre,  turning  very 
seriously  to  Mrs.  Heathcote  and  Paula  ;  "  if  she  is 
pretty  I'll  take  her  into  the  world.  But  you  are 
all  beautiful,"  she  added  politely,  "  and  it  will  only 
be  a  question  of  the  dot." 

"  Our  girls  are  peculiar,"  said  Mrs.  Heathcote, 
smiling.  "  They  propose  to  be  adored." 

"  Well,  why  not  ? "  said  the  Duchess.  "  Are  they 
not  adorable  ?  That  is  as  it  should  be.  Come,  ma 
fille,  suggest  some  charming  compatriot  of  yours 
for  young  Louis  de  St.  Pierre.  He  has  a  fine  name. 
He  has  committed  a  few  follies,  but  nothing  dis- 
honoring. I  know  the  lad  well.  He  is  handsome, 
brave.  What  more  could  any  one  desire  ? " 

"  American  girls  have  a  tradition,  learned  from 
their  mothers,  that  they  must  fall  in  love,"  said 
Mrs.  Heathcote,  now  laughing. 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  295 

"  Very  well,"  said  Madame  de  St.  Pierre,  ready 
for  concession,  and  accepting  the  fact  that  the 
American  point  of  view  must  be  somewhat  upset- 
ting, "  we'll  see  that  she  loves  him,  if  that  also  is 
so  important." 

"  It  is  imperative,"  said  Mrs.  Heathcote,  still 
laughing. 

"  Et  Men,  why  shouldn't  she  ?  He  has  a  great 
deal  in  his  favor.  He's  not  a  beggar  either;  he 
has  something,"  said  Madame  de  Fougeres."  Of 
course  he  hasn't  millions,  like  all  of  you,  but 
my  daughter  would  see  that  she  was  well  placed. 
I  understand  your  young  ladies  like  a  good  posi- 
tion." 

"  Everybody  likes  a  good  position,"  said  the 
Duchess. 

"  I  am  sure  now,  Anne,  it  amuses  you  to  be 
a  Duchess,"  said  Madame  de  Fougeres. 

"  Why,  of  course,"  said  Madame  de  Portes, 
smiling,  "  only  I  am  so  accustomed  to  it !  " 

"  We  must  certainly  find  some  one  for  Monsieur 
de  St.  Pierre,"  said  Mrs.  Heathcote  to  Paula,  with 
a  significant  glance  of  amusement. 

"  It  will  walk  alone  if  you  help  us,"  said  the 
Duchess,  "  but  it  must  be  insisted  upon  that  their 
children  are  brought  up  Catholics." 

And  now,  at  last,  she  turned  to  Paula :  "  Would 
you  like  to  see  my  house  ?  I  am  not  yet  accustomed 


296  A   PURITAN  PAGAN. 

to  that,"  she  said,  "and  it  pleases  me  to  show  it 
to  my  friends.  I  have  not  been  here  very  long." 

"  Everything  looks  as  if  it  had  been  here  always," 
said  Paula. 

"  That  pleases  me,  too.  But  all  these  things,  or 
at  least  many  of  them  came  from  my  old  hotel 
across  the  Seine.  "  Allans  !  "  she  said,  leading  the 
way,  "and  first  you  shall  see  my  dearest  posses- 
sions." 

She  crossed  the  long  drawing-room,  and,  lifting 
a  curtain,  entered  the  dining  or  banqueting  room,  at 
one  end  of  which  at  a  small  table  some  children 
were  having  a  repast  of  milk  and  fruit.  This 
apartment  was  so  large  that  they  did  not  hear 
their  mother's  step.  She  raised  to  her  lips  a  little 
jeweled  whistle  and  sent  its  shrill  call  to  where 
they  sat.  The  governess,  who  was  superintending 
this  light  meal,  stood  up,  and  the  four  children,  two 
boys  and  two  girls,  darted  instantly  forward,  run- 
ning to  meet  their  mamma.  The  boys  kissed  her 
hand  and  the  girls  stood  on  tiptoe  while  she  touched 
her  lips  to  their  foreheads. 

"  Madame  Norvoude,  my  children,"  she  said 
with  a  look  of  pride.  The  boys  bowed  gallantly 
over  Paula's  gloved  hand,  and  stooping -kissed  the 
ends  of  her  fingers.  But  the  little  girls  offered  her 
their  cheeks. 

Paula  thought  the  children  pretty,  especially  the 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  297 

eldest,  the  young  duke.  They  were  dressed  with 
great  care,  the  girls  in  light-blue  poplins  trimmed 
with  white  embroideries,  the  boys  in  a  sort  of 
picturesque  compromise  between  the  English  and 
French  modes.  They  wore  velvet  jackets,  wide 
collars,  and  knickerbockers.  The  young  duke  had 
lovely  dark  curling  hair  and  an  interesting  face. 

"That  is  enough  now.  Return  to  Mees  Smeet, 
my  little  ones,"  said  the  Duchess. 

She  had  a  high,  authoritative  voice  as  of  one 
accustomed  to  command  obedience. 

"  Can  we  see  the  oratory  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Heath- 
cote.  "  Say  something  nice  about  the  oratory,"  she 
whispered  to  Paula.  "  That  will  delight  her.  She's 
very  devout.  They  consider  her  a  saint  here." 

The  stout  little  saint  led  the  way  down  a  rather 
obscure  passage  and  herself  pushed  through  a  slid- 
ing door.  The  three  ladies  entered  the  sacred  pre- 
cincts of  a  private  chapel.  It  was  dark  and  cold. 
An  odor  pervaded  it  as  of  faded  roses.  The  gray 
Parisian  day  shone  faintly  through  the  stained- 
glass  windows  and  threw  prismatic  hues  athwart 
the  altar.  A  man  was  kneeling  at  its  step.  He 
rose  and  moved  down  the  short  aisle.  It  was  a 
priest. 

"  Monsieur  1' Abbe !  don't  let  us  derange  you," 
said  the  Duchess,  "  don't  let  us  intrude  upon  your 
devotions." 


298  A  PUEITAN  PAGAN. 

He  was  young,  tall,  and  hideously  ugly.  His 
skin  had  that  peculiar  drawn  look  of  being  too 
tight  to  hold  him,  engendered  by  the  habit  of  fast- 
ing and  gorging  in  turn.  Probably  the  Duchess's 
table  furnished  ample  apportunity  for  occasional 
indulgence.  The  young  abbe  bowed  to  the  ladies 
without  speaking  and  withdrew,  vanishing  from  the 
sanctuary  by  a  narrow  side  entrance. 

The  beauty  of  this  still  retreat  at  the  heart  of  a 
turbulent  city  and  of  a  great  house  whose  legends 
dedicated  it  to  the  world,  brought  to  Paula  a  whiff 
of  the  romance  of  foreign  life. 

"  Why  don't  you  try  and  bring  me  over  to 
your  religion,  madame  ? "  she  said  to  the  Duchess. 
"  This  oratory  is  so  beautiful  that  I  am  half  con- 
verted already." 

For  the  first  time  Madame  De  Portes  looked  in- 
tently at  Paula,  scanning  her  narrowly  from  head  to 
foot. 

"  Nothing  can  be  more  simple.  You  would 
only  have  to  instruct  yourself,"  she  replied  gravely. 

"  I  should  have  to  put  myself  into  your  hands, 
madame." 

Mrs.  Heathcote  had  given  the  Duchess  a  faint 
outline  of  Paula's  story.  The  fact  that  she  had  not 
been  divorced  commended  her  to  this  lady's  favor. 

"  Religion  is  a  great  consolation.  I  find  no 
other.  There  is  really  nothing  else,"  said  the  Duch- 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  299 

ess,  crossing  herself,  and  offering  holy  water  to  the 
Marquise  De  Fougeres,  who  had  followed  them. 

From  the  oratory  they  adjourned  to  the  Duch- 
ess's bedroom.  It  seemed  almost  shabby  to  Paula, 
as  compared  to  those  of  elegant  women  at  home. 
Madame  de  Fortes  would  probably  have  considered 
these  cocotte,  that  terror  of  the  Parisian  great  lady. 
In  America,  where  this  class  is  less  aggressive,  the 
fear  is  not  pronounced. 

The  bed  was  draped  with  gray  satin,  as  were 
also  the  walls.  The  white-lace  toilet  table  was  not 
overfresh.  The  principal  ornament  in  the  room 
was  a  large  ivory  Christ,  livid  and  sad,  upon  his 
ebony  cross,  which  hung  over  the  Duchess's  prie- 
dieu.  The  lady's  little  boots  lay  on  the  floor ; 
Paula  and  Mrs.  Heathcote  raised  their  skirts  to  step 
over  them.  Her  discarded  bonnet  and  mantle  had 
been  hastily  thrown  across  a  chair.  The  fire  had 
gone  out  and  the  room  was  a  trifle  cold,  and  not  re- 
markable either  for  its  order  or  its  luxury.  The 
childrens'  quarter  proved  to  be  even  more  unpre- 
tending. Their  little  iron  bedsteads  were  covered 
with  dark -chintz  quilts.  The  walls  were  decorated 
by  a  few  religious  pictures.  Christs  with  pierced 
hearts  and  blessed  Virgins  with  bleeding  bosoms 
and  uplifted  eyes.  The  bath  rooms,  which  adjoined 
these  apartments,  seemed  appallingly  poor,  dingy, 
and  contracted  to  American  eyes. 


300  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

When  they  emerged  once  more  upon  the  broad 
staircase  the  Duchess  turned  to  Mrs.  Heathcote. 

"  Will  you  dine  with  me  to-morrow  ?  "  she  said, 
"  you  and  madame  ? " 

"  I  am  very  sorry ;  I  am  dining  the  corps  to- 
morrow," said  Mrs.  Heathcote. 

"  I  hope  you  can  come,"  addressing  Paula.  "  I 
should  be  so  much  pleased.  It  will  be  so  good  for 
the  children  to  speak  English,"  she  added. 

"  Thanks,"  said  Paula  a  little  haughtily.  "  I, 
also,  am  engaged." 

"  Will  you  not  come  to  me  on  Sunday,  then  ? " 
said  the  Duchess,  like  a  person  unaccustomed  to  be 
refused. 

A  second  denial  rose  to  Paula's  lips,  but  Mrs. 
Heathcote  pulled  her  sleeve.  "  Accept,"  she,  said, 
but  Paula  still  demurred. 

"Why  do  you  not  desire  to  dine  with  me?" 
asked  Madame  de  Portes,  with  a  surprised  inflection. 

Then  Mrs.  Heathcote  whispered  to  her  laugh- 
ingly, "  She's  very  proud,  very  sensitive.  She  re- 
quires most  amiable  urging." 

"  Oh,  dear  me ! "  said  the  Duchess. 

It  was  finally  arranged,  however,  that  Paula 
should  dine,  and  that  the  Heathcotes  should  come 
in  the  evening. 

As  they  were  taking  their  leave  they  met  a 
crowd  of  children  and  nurses. 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  301 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  Duchess,  "  here's  our  little 
class.  Come  in  and  see  them  before  you  go,  and 
she  led  the  way  across  the  hall  into  a  large  dancing 
room  where  the  master  was  beginning  to  assume  po- 
sitions and  the  fiddlers  to  tune  their  instruments. 
As  a  waltz  struck  up  the  Duchess  threw  one  arm 
about  Paula's  waist,  and  off  they  spun  together 
round  and  round  the  room,  in  and  out  among  the 
little  dancers.  When  they  stopped — 

"  You  waltz  charmingly,"  said  the  Duchess,  smil- 
ing at  her. 

"  I  wonder,"  thought  Paula,  into  whose  cheeks 
the  exercise  had  brought  a  deep-pink  flush,  "  I  won- 
der if  I  am  a  dreadful  snob  to  be  rather  pleased." 

Thus  mollified  she  did  go  to  the  Sunday  dinner. 

"  It's  something  to  see.  It's  more  of  that  educa- 
tion I  am  always  preaching  to  you,"  Mrs.  Heathcote 
said  to  her,  "  and  Reginald  and  I  will  drop  in  after 
dinner." 

Paula  was  somewhat  intimidated  of  course,  be- 
cause she  knew  that  every  word  and  every  gesture  of 
hers  would  be  criticised.  It  was  an  ordeal  to  face, 
but  she  was  too  well  bred  to  be  ever  really  ill  at 
ease,  and  then  what  sustaining  composure  the  assur- 
ances of  being  properly  dressed  can  give  even  a  shy 
young  woman !  Worth  had  done  wonders  this 
time,  and  in  faint  gray  satin  and  violets  Paula's 
dreaded  entree  was  not  without  success.  The 


302  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

Duchess  herself  was  now  magnificent,  resplendent 
with  jewels  and  admirably  coiffed.  The  dinner  was 
a  small  one  of  only  eighteen  guests,  all  people  of 
title ;  but,  in  point  of  beauty  and  youth,  Paula  car- 
ried off  the  palm. 

Madame  de  Freysne,  to  be  sure,  the  American 
wife  of  the  Duchess's  friend,  looked  young.  She 
was  a  pale,  slight  creature,  not  pretty  and  extremely 
silent.  Paula  did  not  make  her  acquaintance  until 
after  the  dinner. 

The  Duchess  received  Mrs.  Norwood  kindly, 
presenting  several  men  and  women  to  her.  The 
children  were  in  the  drawing-room  before  the  din- 
ner was  announced,  the  abbe  in  his  quaint  dress  sit- 
ting under  a  palm  tree  with  his  boys,  and  Miss 
Smith,  the  English  governess,  keeping  the  little 
girls  close  to  her  skirts.  But  when  the  procession 
was  formed  for  the  banquet  only  the  young  duke 
remained.  To  Paula's  surprise  he  stepped  forward 
after  a  moment's  whispered  colloquy  with  his 
mamma,  and  offered  his  arm  to  her.  He  sat  oppo- 
site to  his  mother,  so  that  she  found  herself  led  to 
the  seat  of  honor.  On  her  right  sat  Monsieur  de 
Freysne.  This  gentleman  announced  to  Paula  im- 
mediately the  fact  of  his  American  alliance,  telling 
her  she  must  show  her  perception  of  nationality 
by  picking  out  his  wife  at  once.  Paula  did  so  un- 
hesitatingly, recognizing  the  type.  But  Madame 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  303 

de  Freysne  had  not  the  proverbial  loveliness  and 
vivacity  of  American  women.  She  seemed  ab- 
stracted, monosyllabic.  De  Freysne,  however,  talked 
enough  for  two.  Mrs.  Heathcote  had  told  Paula 
that  his  wife  was  a  Western  girl  of  large  for- 
tune. She  had  not  met  her,  but  the  French  people 
had  told  her  that  she  was  uninteresting  and  dull, 
and  not  supposed  to  be  over  happy  with  a  hus- 
band who  was  enjoying  her  fortune,  but  somewhat 
neglectful  of  herself. 

Whatever  unfriendly  criticisms  Paula  might 
have  feared,  she  found  herself  at  once  enveloped  in 
an  atmosphere  of  such  refinement,  civilization,  and 
courtesy,  that  her  alarm  took  instant  flight.  The 
little  duke — who  was  polite  and  gallant — spoke 
English  fluently,  and  was  an  attractive  boy,  while 
De  Freysne,  if  an  undesirable  companion  for  life, 
had  been  endowed  by  nature  with  the  graces  which 
make  an  agreeable  neighbor  for  a  dinner  or  a  cotill- 
ion. The  conversation,  which  was  often  general, 
seemed  to  Paula  peculiarly  brilliant.  In  fact,  she 
had  never  listened  to  just  such  talk.  The  men  left 
the  burden  of  it  principally  to  the  women,  only  giv- 
ing it  an  occasional  impetus  when  it  threatened  to 
languish.  They  listened  attentively  and  with  re- 
spect to  the  easy  flow  of  the  ladies'  eloquence. 
Paula  noticed  that  they  neither  approached  these 
women  individually  with  too  absorbed  or  too  en- 


304:  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

grossing  attention,  or  felt  obliged  to  feign  a  rude 
indifference.  In  fact,  she  was  soon  impressed  with 
the  idea  that  they  did  not  feel  called  upon  to  feign 
.  .  .  anything.  They  were  there  to  extract  such 
amusement  as  they  might,  and,  above  all,  to  amuse 
in  their  turn.  Under  this  aspect  society  becomes  a 
fine  art.  The  flow  of  words,  animated,  at  moments 
even  eager,  was  never  ponderous.  Nothing  was 
dwelt  upon  at  any  length.  Subjects  were  bowled 
back  and  forth,  played  with,  rolled  over  a  minute, 
and  then  dismissed.  Paula  felt  never  an  instant's 
fatigue,  and,  remembering  how  often  she  had 
yawned  through  dinner  parties  at  home,  said  to  her- 
self, "  Our  men  have  not  this  talent." 

Among  other  topics  that  of  the  degree  of  free- 
dom with  which  men  and  women  could  afford  to 
disregard  convention  and  shock  prejudice  was  dis- 
cussed. Some  of  the  men  asserted  that  given  a  past 
record  of  propriety  there  were  women  who  could 
risk  everything,  emancipate  themselves,  where 
others  would  at  once  be  swamped.  The  women, 
particularly  the  Duchess,  took  the  other  ground. 
A  reputation,  they  insisted,  intact  to-day  could  be 
jeopardized,  nay  lost,  to-morrow. 

"  What  in  the  name  of  Heaven  could  you 
do,"  cried  De  Freysne  across  the  table,  "  chere 
madame,  that  could  ever  possibly  imperil  your 
position  or  your  name  ?  You  do  a  thing,  then 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  305 

at  once  it  becomes  as  it  should  be.  It  is  cor- 
rect." 

"  You  are  ridiculous,"  said  the  Duchess.  Never- 
theless, Paula  thought  she  looked  flattered. 

"  Oh,  madame  is  an  icicle,"  said  a  mustached  and 
decorated  gentleman.  "  You  are  safe  in  predicting 
that  she  will  not  shock  the  proprieties." 

"  Yes,  yes,  you  are  an  icicle,"  echoed  the 
women. 

"  Madame  does  not  look  cold,"  ventured  Paula. 

"  Ah !  do  you  see,  do  you  hear !  That  jolie 
femine  who  comes  to  my  rescue  ! "  cried  the 
Duchess  shrilly,  "  and  pray,  Madame  Norvoude,  tell 
these  detractors  how  you  judge  me  not  of  ice  ? " 

"Your  face  is  not  a  cold  one,"  said  Paula. 
"  On  the  contrary,  it  is  quite  the  opposite." 

The  Duchess's  wide  mouth,  which  was,  in  fact, 
not  a  cold  one,  was  instantly  stretched  into  a  broad 
smile.  She  put  up  her  lorgnon  and  nodded  at 
Paula  two  or  three  times  across  the  roses  which 
separated  them. 

"  You  are  right.  You  have  divined  me ;  you 
have  read  me  better  than  these  older  friends.  Vive 
les  Amercaines  !  "  she  said,  laughing.  "  They  have 
intelligence." 

The  abbe,  who  had  been  quiet,  now  whispered 
something  to  the  ambient  air,  which  the  Duchess 
caught  on  the  rebound. 


306  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  Lable  admires  your  fan,  Madame  Norvoude. 
May  we  look  at  it?" 

Paula  felt  pleased  to  say,  "  It  was  made  in  New 
York,"  as  it  passed  round  the  table.  "  Fancy  that 
fascinatingly  ugly  priest  spying  out  my  Tiffany 
fan !  "  she  thought.  "  How  delicious !  He  will  be 
exchanging  a  hair  from  some  martyr's  head  for  an 
American  rocking-chair,  as  a  dusty  old  priest  did  in 
Florence  the  other  day." 

"  I  did  not  know  you  made  such  pretty  things 
in  New  York,"  said  the  Duchess. 

"  New  York  will  soon  be  the  center  of  the 
world,"  said  De  Freysne. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  Duchess  vaguely  and  without 
enthusiasm,  "  everything  is  possible." 

When  they  adjourned  to  the  drawing-room 
Paula  instinctively  sought  the  side  of  Madame  de 
Freysne,  to  whom  she  asked  to  be  presented.  This 
lady,  who  looked  distinctly  bored,  greeted  her  with 
cordiality.  "  I  am  sure  I  am  glad  to  see  an  Ameri- 
can," she  said. 

"  I  supposed  you  met  more  of  them  than  you 
cared  about,"  said  Paula,  smiling. 

"  No,  I  don't.  I  go  almost  entirely  in  this  set. 
My  husband  and  his  mother  wish  it,  and  anything 
stupider  I'd  like  to  imagine.  You're  the  first  Amer- 
ican, except  Mrs.  Heathcote,  I  ever  met  in  this 
clique." 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  307 

"  It  seems  to  me  very  delightful." 

"  I  guess  you  wouldn't  think  so,  then,  if  you'd 
married  into  it." 

Paula  could  not  help  laughing.  She  did  not 
find  Madame  de  Freysne  exactly  dull. 

"  Don't  you  like  Paris  ?  " 

"  I  hate  it !  and,"  added  this  transplanted 
daughter  of  an  alien  soil,  "  I  hate  everybody  in  it." 

Paula  began  to  feel  sorry  for  her.  She  vent- 
ured something  about  the  sights,  the  wonders,  the 
pictures,  the  churches,  the  Louvre.  "  Did  not  Ma- 
dame de  Freysne  enjoy  these  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,"  said  the  young  countess  ;  "  when 
I  was  first  married  I  had  a  surfeit.  My  husband 
dragged  me  everywhere.  I  like  just  to  whisk 
through  those  places,  but  he  goes  so  slowly,  I 
don't  see  the  sense  if  a  person  isn't  lame ;  I  hate 
flattening  my  nose  against  every  old  daub.  Those 
silly  old  saints,  all  forehead  and  feet,  make  me  just 
sick."  Paula  listened  and  she  went  on  : 

"  I  am  like  a  prisoner  here.  My  mother-in- 
law's  a  regular  hyena,  who's  always  looking  after 
my  tenue,  as  she  calls  it.  She'd  better  be  look- 
ing after  her  own  daughters,  for  intrigue  is  their 
meat  and  drink.  They  swim  in  lies ;  they  love 
them  ;  they  could  not  tell  the  truth  to  save  them- 
selves from  hanging.  She  abuses  my  country  people 
from  morning  till  night.  It  makes  me  ill." 


308  A   PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  I  do  think  that  is  unkind  of  her,"  said  Paula 
sympathetically. 

"  Unkind  !  That's  a  mild  way  of  putting  it. 
I've  been  a  goose  !  When  I  came  here  I  was  en- 
gaged to  a  very  nice  young  man.  He  was  super- 
intendent of  the  G.  G.  P.  L.  &  D.  E.  K.— don't  you 
know  that  road  ?  "Well,  if  I'd  stayed  quiet  he'd  have 
been  president  by  this  time  and  I  guess  I'd  have 
been  boss  in  that  establishment.  But,  no  ...  I 
broke  with  him  ...  I  was  mean.  I've  paid  for  it. 
I  thought  it  was  so  fine  to  be  a  countess,  but,  I  can 
tell  you  what,  it  don't  amount  to  a  row  of  pins." 

"No?"  said  Paula. 

"  No,  it  don't.  They  think  I'm  stupid  because 
I  hold  my  tongue,  but  when  I  do  speak,  and  I  shall 
soon,  I  guess  there'll  be  a  breeze.  I'll  make  things 
hot  for  them.  I'll  make  the  welkin  ring!  The 
worst  of  it  is  I've  changed  my  religion  too.  They 
got  me  baptized.  Oh,  I've  been  a  big  fool !  They 
caught  me  pretty  fast.  I  guess  my  mother-in-law's 
all  the  hair  shirt  I'll  ever  have  to  wear  for  penance. 
She's  worse  than  the  malaria,  but  I'm  just  biding 
my  time !  I've  got  a  plan." 

Paula  shrank  somewhat  from  the  development 
of  the  plan,  and  tried  to  turn  the  subject,  but 
Madame  de  Freysne  was  not  to  be  bluffed. 

"  They  are  just  as  bad,  just'  as  corrupt  as  they 
can  be,"  she  said.  "  They're  not  worth  two  sous,  the 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  3Q9 

whole  of  them  boiled  in  a  pot.  But  if  you  move 
your  hand  they  roll  up  their  eyes  and  wag  their  old 
wigs  at  you  as  if  you  had  committed  the  unpardon- 
able sin." 

"  I  suppose  there  is  less  liberty,"  said  Paula. 

"Liberty!  Well,  I  smile.  Why,  they  don't 
know  what  it  means !  They're  about  as  wide  as 
that " — she  portioned  off  the  tip  end  of  her  little- 
finger  nail — "  nagging  you  all  day  about  nothing  at 
all,  and  such  dirty  ideas,  too,  about  everything! 
Where  I  was  raised  there  was  some  respect  for 
women." 

Paula  was  aghast. 

"  Where's  your  husband  ?  "  asked  Madame  de 
Freysne  abruptly. 

Not  caring  to  enter  into  explanations,  Paula 
said,  "  In  America." 

"  Is  he  young  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"Well,  mine's  old;  ever  so  much  older  than  I 
am." 

"  Why,  he  does  not  look  old,"  said  Paula. 

"  He's  made  up." 

"  I  can't  believe  it." 

"  I've  seen  him  do  it,"  said  this  dutiful  wife, 
"  and  I  guess  he  drinks  more  than  he  eats — more 
absinthe,  I  mean." 

Paula  was  beginning  to  think  it  not  at  all  aston- 


310  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

ishing  that  the  Europeans  considered  American 
girls  vulgar,  yet  she  was  interested  in  spite  of 
herself  in  this  genuine  and  extraordinary  speci- 
men. 

"  You  must  be  very  unhappy." 

"  Oh,  it  won't  last  much  longer  !  I'll  write  to 
pa  when  I  get  ready.  I'm  just  holding  out  to  watch 
a  little  game  that's  being  played — a  little  game  they 
think  I  haven't  seen.  But  I've  seen  .  .  .  every- 
thing." 

Paula  faintly  murmured  that  she  had  no  doubt 
of  it. 

"  Has  she  shown  you  the  .  .  .  oratory  yet  ? "  she 
asked,  designating  the  Duchess  with  a  contemptuous 
movement  of  her  feather  fan. 

"  Yes,"  said  Paula.     "  It  was  beautiful." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Madame  de  Freysne  meaningly. 
"  It's  all  beautiful.  She's  very  .  .  .  pious.  A 
mighty  bad  Christian,  but  a  good  Catholic.  Thank 
the  Lord  on  your  knees  that  you've  married  an 
American ;  they're  the  only  pure  men  in  the  world. 
Don't  you  think  so?" 

Paula  winced.  "  I  don't  know  anything  about 
men,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  I  do,  then ;  everything  about  them. 
And  I  can  tell  you  I've  found  out  things  that  would 
just  make  every  innocent  hair  on  your  head  stand 
up  on  its  roots.  It's  perfectly  awful.  Just  live  in 


A  PUKITAN  PAGAN.  311 

this  pious  atmosphere  for  a  month  and  you'll  be 
*  instructed.' " 

Paula  fidgeted  in  her  chair,  desiring  escape. 
The  Duchess  came  to  the  rescue. 

"  What  are  you  two  plotting  ? "  she  asked  gayly. 

"  I  was  saying  to  Mrs.  Norwood,"  answered 
Madame  de  Freysne,  looking  up  with  a  slight  snort 
from  a  belligerent  nostril,  "that  American  men 
were  truer,  more  honest,  purer,  than  Frenchmen." 

For  all  answer  the  Duchess  stared  at  her  blankly 
for  a  moment,  and  turning  to  Paula,  "  Come," 
she  said,  "  I  want  to  show  you  a  new  vase  I 
bought  yesterday.  Est  elle  assomante  avec  ses 
hommes  piires"  she  murmured,  putting  her  hand 
through  Paula's  arm  and  propelling  her  into  the 
next  room.  "  Poor  De  Freysne,"  she  added,  "  she 
is  so  bete,  and  not  even  pretty.  But  what  will  you 
have  ?  He  had  so  many  debts ;  it  had  to  be.  I 
came  now  to  release  you,  but  he,  alas !  can  not  be 
released." 

She  showed  Paula  the  new  vase  with  much  sat- 
isfaction. 

"  I  bought  it,"  said  the  Duchess,  "  at  the  Bon 
Marche.  That  will  make  you  laugh.  I  had  been 
there  the  first  morning  you  called  here.  They  sent 
me  word  it  was  an  occasion,  and  I  just  drove  round. 
It  was  very  cheap.  You  American  ladies  have  such 
a  mania  for  throwing  money  out  of  the  window. 


312  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

You  do  not  appreciate  what  pleasure  we  take  in  a 
bargain." 

Then  they  returned  to  the  large  drawing-room. 
Evening  guests  were  beginning  to  arrive. 

"  Monsieur  le  Prince  de  Montreuil !  "  announced 
the  servant. 

Paula  looked  up.     Their  eyes  met. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

HAVING  bowed  low  to  the  Duchess,  he  was  de- 
tained near  the  door  for  a  moment  by  a  group. 
"With  a  quick  movement,  he  had  soon  eluded  them 
to  reach  Paula's  side.  A  flush  of  genuine  pleasure 
illumined  for  a  moment  his  melancholy  face,  mak- 
ing it  almost  handsome. 

"  I  find  you  again !     Is  it  possible  !  "  he  said. 

They  shook  hands. 

"  Yes,"  said  Paula,  "  the  sea  we  used  to  gaze  at 
together  in  the  twilights  at  East  Brompton  has 
brought  me  to  your  delightful  country." 

"  I  wrote  from  Japan,"  said  De  Montreuil. 
"  Receiving  no  answer,  I  concluded  you  did  not  de- 
sire me  to  repeat  the  experiment." 

"  I  did  not  receive  your  letter,"  said  Paula. 
"  Only  a  note  of  farewell  the  day  after  you  left  us." 

"  Ah  !  Would  that  I  had  known  it !  But  how 
beautiful  you  are  grown  I  The  same  small,  classic 
head  and  wonderful  eyes,  and  there  is  something 
else  that  you  have  gained.  You  always  seemed  to 


314  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

me  as  alluring  as  your  beloved  sea.  I  have  some- 
times wondered,  when  thinking  of  you,  if  you  were 
as  treacherous." 

"  My  worst  enemy,"  said  Paula,  smiling,  "  has 
never  accused  me  of  treachery.  I  am  too  blunt,  too 
honest." 

"  I  will  believe  you,"  said  De  Montreuil,  with 
the  eyes  of  a  man  ready  to  die  for  love.  "  Ah !  all 
I  have  suffered  since !  I  have  thought  of  you  so 
often,  so  often !  Have  you  ever  remembered  me  ? " 

Under  the  old  influence  of  fascination  which  he 
had  once  for  three  days  exerted  over  her,  and  in 
which  his  personality  had  again  immediately  envel- 
oped her,  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  tell  him 
that  she  had  not.  With  the  boast  of  her  honesty 
still  upon  her  lips  I  must  sadly  own  that  Paula  as- 
sured him,  rather  faintly,  it  must  be  admitted,  that 
she  had  not  "  forgotten  him." 

"  You  look  so  fresh  and  I  so  world-worn,"  said 
De  Montreuil,  "  I  feel  as  if  I  had  no  right  to  enter 
again  into  your  pure  presence." 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  to  me  ?  What  terrible 
things  have  you  done  ? " 

"  Would  it  hurt  you  if  I  should  have  done  terri- 
ble things?" 

"Yes." 

"  Then  it  is  not  true." 

"  Oh  !  can  you  say  no  more  ? " 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  315 

"  Yes,  I  can  say  that  I  was  badly  brought  up  ; 
that  I  had  no  chance.  That  if  I  had  met  such 
women  as  you  are  1  should  have  been  a  better 
man,  but  that  I  have  tried  to  be  a  gentleman, 
and  .  .  .  since  I  knew  you  ...  all  for  a  mem- 
ory." 

Paula  felt  as  if  she  was  going  to  cry.  She  re- 
membered this  peculiar  effect  De  Montreuil  had  ex- 
erted upon  her  before.  It  was  at  once  painful  and 
pleasant.  At  any  rate,  it  was  unique.  This  man 
was  not  commonplace. 

He  remained  at  her  side  to  the  evening's  end. 
It  seemed  at  once  short  and  long  to  her,  like  the 
Biblical  "  thousand  years."  They  looked  at  each 
other  a  great  deal — long  regards  that  sunk  into  un- 
knowable abysses.  Paula  had  been  amused  at  the 
fleathcotes'  dance,  but  told  herself  that  the  Duch- 
ess's entertainment  had  been  otherwise  interesting. 
It  had  touched  her  imagination. 

"  So  De  Montreuil  is  in  the  toils  again  ? "  said 
Mrs.  Heathcote  to  her  the  next  day.  "  Be  very 
careful." 

"  Why  do  you  always  warn  me  against  that 
man  ? "  Paula  spoke  a  little  impatiently. 

"  Because  he  is  not  one  of  the  '  nice  fellows ' 
who  never  do  women  any  mischief.  De  Montreuil 
might  be  a  danger,  and  particularly  so  to  you.  I 
prefer  Tad  for  you." 


316  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  Thanks !  But  do  you  really  know  anything 
against  him  ?  You  are  unfair." 

"  Oh,  nothing  in  particular,"  said  the  Princess 
in  a  disengaged  voice. 

They  fell  to  speaking  of  Madame  De  Freysne. 

"  How  could  a  little  wild  girl  from  one  of  our 
Western  towns  be  in  touch  with  these  people  ?  It 
is  an  absurd  marriage !  What  you  tell  me  opens 
my  eyes  to  the  situation.  I  did  hear  his  mother 
was  something  of  a  dragon,  who  roped  the  child  in 
to  repair  the  De  Freysne  fallen  fortunes.  You 
ought  to  hear  Reginald  on  the  subject  of  these 
transatlantic  marriages  !  He  waxes  eloquent.  Like 
all  men  who  have  given  little  time  to  the  science  of 
love,  he  is  full  of  romantic  theories ;  thinks  all  this 
an  abomination  of  desolation  ;  wants  to  interfere — 
to  kill  somebody.  Probably  he  is  right.  Simple 
natures  are  apt  to  be  where  intricate  ones  flounder. 
My  province  in  life  being  to  pick  up  wrecks  and 
patch  them  up  again,  I  wonder  if  there  is  anything 
I  could  do  to  mend  the  De  Freysne  menage  !  " 

"  I  don't  know.  She  evidently  suspects  the 
Duchess  of  all  sorts  of  terrible  things." 

"  That  is  foolish.  The  Duchess  is  a  good 
woman,  and  at  bottom  sincere.  She  has  one  weak- 
ness— vanity.  De  Freysne  flatters  her,  and  she  likes 
him  for  it.  But  I  am  positive  there  is  nothing. 
Naturally  the  little  countess  and  his  family  scandal- 


A  PURITAN   PAGAN.  317 

ize  each  other.  The  people  here  talk  so  one  fancies 
at  first  they  are  all  perverted — corrupt  to  the  core. 
But  they  are  better  than  their  talk,  and  one  learns 
to  unravel  and  understand.  I  think  this  poor  child 
could  make  something  out  of  her  life.  De  Freysne 
is  not  half  a  bad  fellow.  I  am  certain  he  is  never 
harsh  or  unkind  ;  only  a  bit  neglectful  and  thought- 
less." 

"  Isn't  that  unkind  ? " 

"  There  are  worse  things  to  bear." 

"  For  instance  ?  " 

"Undue  claims  upon  one's  tenderness,"  said 
Mrs.  Heathcote,  laughing.  Then  she  added  more 
seriously,  "  I  will  make  her  acquaintance  and  give 
her  some  advice." 

"  You  will  think  her  execrably  vulgar." 

"  Oh,  I  sha'n't  mind  that.  I  rather  like  friction 
with  all  manner  of  people.  I  was  really  made  for 
this  life,  although  I  sometimes  have  a  qualm  and 
rebel,  as  at  your  Connecticut  people,  for  instance, 
who  have  all  the  vulgarity  without  the  picturesque- 
ness  of  being  Western  and  unhappily  wedded." 

"Have  they  called?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  and  the  Doctor,  too.  I  sent  Yernon 
round  "  (Yernon  was  the  first  secretary)  "  with  our 
cards.  They'll  all  come  to  my  Saturday  crush,  no 
doubt." 

"  I  dare  say,  darling  Mrs.  Heathcote,  you  could 


318  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

help  our  unfortunate  Western  countess  with  your 
tender  wisdom." 

"  We  shall  see." 

"  How  freely  they  speak  here  before  their  serv- 
ants!" 

u  Yes,  I  saw  your  amazement  at  Madame  de  St. 
Pierre,  and  it's  often  very  funny.  That  was  an  old 
family  servant  from  whom  they  have  no  secrets. 
French  servants  rarely  presume,  except,  indeed, 
after  they  have  passed  a  few  years  in  the  United 
States,  which  seems  to  make  everybody  bump- 
tious." 

"  Does  Mr.  Heathcote  like  being  here  ? " 

"  Yes ;  it's  a  rest  to  him  in  a  way,  and  the  politi- 
cal situation  interests  him.  He's  studying  the  re- 
public, and  its  chances  for  futurity.  He  thinks  they 
ought  all  to  stop  barking,  or  else  to  fight.  France's 
present  position  is  untenable.  Either  let  her  bury 
bitterness,  which  dares  nothing  and  is  only  pitiable, 
accept  a  treaty  frankly,  which  politically  and  com- 
mercially is  the  wiser  course,  or  else  take  up 
arms." 

"  Would  not  England  have  been  more  congenial 
to  him?" 

"  Reginald  has  a  deep-rooted  prejudice  against 
the  Briton.  A  very  small  thing  turned  his  senti- 
ments, which  had  been  friendly  before." 

"What  was  that?" 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  319 

"  When  a  young  fellow  he  ran  over  to  London 
during  our  civil  war  for  a  few  days'  furlough.  He 
had  been  wounded,  and  his  physician  advised  this 
voyage  —  he  volunteered,  you  know,  when  a  mere 
boy.  In  London  he  was  put  up  at  a  smart  club,  and 
it  was  there  he  first  heard  of  Lincoln's  assassination. 
He  read  the  announcement  in  a  bulletin  pinned  up 
on  a  door.  It  was  an  awful  shock;  he  felt  very 
strongly ;  he  broke  down  completely.  Some  incred- 
ible creature  had  written  up  under  the  word  of  death 
— with  a  humor  which  failed  to  appeal  to  Reginald 
on  this  occasion — '  Yes,  dead,  and  gone  to  hell, 
damn  him ! '  Reginald  was  so  furious  he  wanted 
to  wipe  out  those  words  in  blood,  but  the  culprit 
could  not  be  found,  although  this  evidence  of  his 
good  taste  was  left  there  for  several  days.  They 
burned  into  his  soldier's  heart,  but  they  only  laughed 
at  him.  He  has  never  forgiven." 

"  Do  you  call  that  a  little  tiling? " 

"  Oh,  what  is  one  man's  vileness  ! " 

"  I  believe  they  all  gloated  over  Lincoln's  death," 
said  Paula,  crimson  with  emotion. 

"'Not  all,  little  Paula." 

"  Oh,  calm  one,  you  are  too  wise.  You  frighten 
me!" 

"  Such  wisdom  as  I  have,  Paula,"  said  the 
Princess,  and  the  old  sorrowful  shadow  fell  on  her 
fair  face,  "  has  been  won  at  too  great  a  cost.  Be- 


320  •  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

lieve  me,  dear,  I  sometimes  pause  from  bragging  of 
my  victories  to  ponder  over  my  defeats.  They 
have  been  serious  ones,  but  I  never  speak  of 
them." 

If  the  Connecticut  girls  liked  Paris  and  its 
shops,  Paula,  who  was  only  a  spasmodic  shopper 
at  best,  and  whom  the  deceitfulness  of  a  foreign 
coin  had  led  into  what  her  aunt  called  a  satur- 
nalia of  extravagance,  had  now  plenty  of  leisure 
for  other  diversions.  Like  all  women  who  have 
lived  much  alone,  she  had  formed  habits  of  soli- 
tude, and  she  enjoyed  escaping  fromMrs.  Sorchan's 
affectionate  watchfulness  to  wander  in  the  more 
retired  parts  of  Paris,  to  loiter  in  its  art  galleries 
(which  she  studied  ardently),  or  kneel  in  its  dark 
churches.  She  was  even  unfashionable  enough  to 
stop  sometimes  under  the  old  trees  of  the  Tuil- 
eries  gardens  and  listen  to  the  band  discoursing  its 
sweet  music  for  the  benefit  of  the  children  who 
played  underneath  them.  She  loved  the  shrill  cries 
of  the  venders ;  the  gamins  playing  in  the  gutter ; 
the  never-failing  flirtation  of  the  soldier  and  the 
bonne  at  the  street  corner ;  the  priest  passing  swift- 
ly on  some  errand  of  mercy,  muttering  his  brevi- 
ary ;  the  school-boy  in  blouse  and  cap  piloted  by  his 
nurse  across  the  crowded  thoroughfares  with  eyes 
filled  with  a  desire  for  an  escape  which  the  free-born 
American  lad  would  have  effected,  without  demur 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  321 

or  parley,  with,  a  snap  of  his  finger  and  a  whistle  of 
contempt.  The  world  of  the  streets  never  wearies 
because  it  never  importunes ;  and  for  Paula  it  was 
a  welcome  contrast  to  the  brilliant  entertainments 
at  the  legation  and  the  drives  to  the  races  with 
Madame  de  Fortes  in  her  elegant  equipages. 

This  lady  had  adopted  Paula  at  once  into  her 
good  graces. 

If,  by  and  by,  sometimes  de  Montreuil  ac- 
companied her  in  these  more  familiar  unconven- 
tional rambles,  where  was  the  harm  ?  He  was 
such  a  flower  of  courtesy !  adroit,  companion- 
able, respectful ;  his  homage  so  full  of  grace  and 
tact.  As  they  stepped  off  briskly  together  across 
the  gray  asphalt,  blanched  by  the  sunshine,  black- 
ened by  the  showers,  she  felt  as  safe  as  with  some 
dear  friend,  lost  for  a  moment  and  neglected,  yet 
found  again  with  satisfaction  and  with  pleasure. 
With  him  a  mischievousness  foreign  to  Paula's 
character  seemed  to  awake  in  her.  She  liked  to 
tease  and  torment  him,  to  bring  into  his  sad  eyes  a 
gleam  of  deprecation  and  of  merriment.  After  she 
met  him  the  mood  folded  its  wings  and  became  a 
visitation  from  a  misty  and  uncertain  past.  Her 
moral  being,  isolated  and  without  anchorage,  was 
simply  powerfully  stirred  by  the  fixed  determina- 
tion of  another's  will,  a  phenomenon  not  uncom- 
mon to  richly  emotional  natures.  All  strong  char- 
21 


322  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

acter  is  full  of  inconsistencies ;  the  balancement  of 
the  deep. 

Norwood's  last  letters  had  been  returned,  like 
the  first,  unopened.  They  had  now  ceased  to  come. 
Strangely  it  was  not  without  a  pang  of  resentment 
that  she  realized  he  was  accepting  her  stubborn  fiat. 
But  Norwood  was  not  accepting  as  she  supposed  he 
was.  He  still  wrote  to  her  almost  daily,  only  now  he 
put  the  letters  into  her  desk  unsent.  "  Some  day," 
he  said,  "  she  will  read  and  know."  Sometimes  he 
thought  he  would  follow  and  force  himself  into  her 
presence,  but  the  day  for  this  was  not  yet  here. 
He  dreaded  any  step  whose  failure  would  push  him 
yet  farther  from  her  than  now.  He  could  wait. 

*  One  day  De  Montreuil  sent  Paula  some  splendid 
red  roses,  and  among  their  leaves  was  concealed  this 
song,  which  she  thought  very  pretty,  although  she 
did  not  take  it  too  seriously : 

Elle  est  la  grace  !  et  quand  1'aurore, 

Rallume  le  soleil  eteint 

L»es  roses  prennent  a  son  teint 

Le  doux  eclat  qui  les  colore, 

Elle  est  le  charme  et  quand  sonore 

La  voix  lente  du  flot  lointain 

Chante  le  re  tour  du  matin 

C'est  sa  voix  que  j'entends  encore 

Tresor  joyeux !  tresor  amer ! 

Elle  est  1'aurore  1  elle  est  la  mer! 

Elle  est  la  grace  !  elle  est  le  charme  1 

Seule  elle  apporte  a  mon  amour 

Dans  un  sourire — tout  le  jour 

Tout  1'ocean  dans  une  larme  I 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  353 

She  wore  the  flowers  that  night  in  her  bosom  at 
a  private  concert  and  ball  to  which  the  Duchess 
had  insisted  on  conveying  her. 

They  arrived  late,  and  found  the  concert  de  sa- 
lon in  full  blast.  A  passage,  however,  was  made 
for  so  important  a  personage  as  the  Duchess,  and 
Paula  followed  in  her  wake.  She  aroused  a  con- 
siderable interest  among  the  gentlemen,  who  parted 
into  a  double  rank  to  let  them  pass.  The  ball  room 
had  been  cleared  for  the  music ;  it  was  &  parterre  of 
splendidly  dressed  women  with  bare,  very  bare, 
shoulders  and  hair  generously  besprinkled  with 
jewels.  The  men  were  relegated  to  its  outer  por- 
tals. Absolute  silence  reigned  during  the  perform- 
ance, even  a  whisper  being  quickly  frowned  down. 
After  the  artists,  who  were  of  the  best,  a  few  ama- 
teurs were  to  be  heard.  A  pretty  young  woman,  a 
Princess  Somebody,  sang  a  romance  of  which  the 
refrain  was,  "  0,  mes  leaux  jours,  adieu,  adieu  !  " 
It  was  received  with  that  discreet  applause  of 
people  of  the  world  who  avoid  any  undue  enthusi- 
asm as  in  bad  taste.  Then  a  dashing  duchess  of 
the  empire  rose  and  warbled  a  ditty,  at  which  the 
men,  and  particularly  the  older  ones,  clapped  their 
hands  loudly  with  exclamations  of  admiration.  The 
women,  however,  accorded  her  but  a  cold  reception. 
There  were  even  one  or  two  loud  whispers  that  it 
was  inconvenant.  She  came  off  the  platform  with  a 


324  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

defiant  toss  of  the  head,  evidently  pleased  that  she 
should  have  given  them  food  for  gossip.  Then 
after  a  sentimental  solo  by  a  small,  dark  gentleman, 
the  concert  came  to  a  sudden  termination.  As  if 
by  magic,  the  chairs  vanished,  carried  away  by 
swift-footed,  powdered  footmen  in  red  coats.  The 
people  scattered,  the  waltzes  tuned  up,  and  the 
dance  began. 

It  was  late  when  the  Duchess  and  Paula  sent 
for  their  wraps,  and  there  seemed  to  Paula  much 
unnecessary  bustle  and  confusion  in  what  in  her  own 
country  was  so  admirably  managed.  They  waited  an 
endless  time  for  »their  carriage,  and  Paula  amused 
herself  watching  her  fellow-sufferers,  whom  De 
Montreuil  pointed  out  to  her.  There  was  a  superb 
English  beauty,  Lady  Herbert,  whose  head  and 
shoulders  rose  far  above  those  of  the  French  ador- 
ers by  whom  she  was  environed.  She  had  a  pair 
of  starlike,  wicked  eyes,  and  looked  immensely  dis- 
gusted. Her  absolute  indifference  seemed  only  to 
augment  the  assiduities  of  her  admirers,  tremulous 
with  attentions  and  compliment,  and  with  a  frank 
Gallic  faith  in  their  own  powers.  Paula  turned 
from  her  contemplation  of  the  proud  British  belle 
to  watch  with  curiosity  a  couple  who  were  standing 
near  her. 

"Who  is  that  beautiful,  faded  woman?"  she 
asked  of  De  Montreuil. 


A  PURITAN   PAGAN.  325 

"  That  is  Madame  de  Passy." 

"  And  the  man  ? " 

"  Geoifroy  de  Chartres,  her  lover." 

They  were  talking  in  low  tones  together.  The 
woman  possessed  that  burned-out,  wan,  feverish  love- 
liness the  passions  stamp  upon  the  features.  She 
was  very  distinguished  under  her  tiara  of  magnifi- 
cent diamonds  half  hidden  in  her  blonde  tresses. 
The  man  had  a  dissipated  and  disagreeable  face.  He 
left  her  for  a  moment,  and  stopped  at  no  very  great 
distance  to  press  the  hand  and  make  some  remark 
to  another  woman,  who  looked  up  at  him  with  a  co- 
quettish, challenging  smile.  Paula  was  struck  with 
the  expression  of  dismay  and  anguish  which  crossed 
Madame  de  Passy's  face.  She  closed  her  eyes 
suddenly,  as  if  in  a  spasm  of  pain.  In  a  moment 
others  had  surrounded  her.  She  turned  to  laugh 
and  talk  with  them,  but  Paula  noticed  the  rigidity 
and  pallor  of  her  lips. 

"  La  voiture  de  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Portes, 
est  avancee"  roared  the  footman.  In  the  carriage 
the  Duchess  told  her  more  of  them. 

"  She  is  his  slave.  He  uses  her  brutally,  and 
she  accepts  .  .  .  everything." 

"  Has  she  a  husband  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  a  perfect  gentleman ;  a  good  fellow, 
too,  but  stupid  like  all  the  rest  of  them,  in  not  see- 
ing this.  He's  a  man  of  honor.  The  day  he  is  en- 


326  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

lightened  he  will  challenge  him  and  somebody  will 
have  to  die." 

"  I  hated  that  De  Chartres's  face." 
•    "  You  may  well.     He's  a  bad  man.    She  is  older 
than  he.     He  is  tired  of  her,  but  she  clings  to  him. 
She  loves  him." 

"  I  do  not  call  that  love.     It  is  degradation." 

"  Call  it  what  you  like,  such  things  exist,  petite. 
When  a  woman  like  that  stoops  to  throw  away  all 
the  traditions  of  a  great  name  and  race  and  of  an 
austere  bringing  up  the  ruin  is  complete.  She  had 
nobility  in  her.  She  has  made  that  man — he  was 
not  her  equal — made  him  and  lost  herself.  She  was 
the  leader  of  everything  in  her  world,  but  her  pres- 
tige is  leaving  her.  His  head  is  turned.  He  is  try- 
ing to  throw  her  off  now  that  she  has  served  his 
purpose.  She  procured  for  him  a  high  official  ap- 
pointment, and  made  him  at  the  same  time  a  man 
of  fashion." 

"  Do  you  suppose  he  ever  cared  ? " 

"  Oh,  in  his  way — brutally.  They  wandered  off 
together  at  my  hunt  last  year.  That  evil-tongued 

Madame  de   Z was  there.      The  scandal  was 

quite  dreadful.     I  could  never  invite  her  again." 

"  Oh,  I  pity  her !  "  said  Paula. 

"  Ah !  believe  me,  petite,  all  sin  brings  frightful 
chastisement." 

"Is  love  anything?" 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  327 

"  I  don't  know.  I  loved  my  husband  ;  we  were 
happy,  and  still  I  lost  him.  And  the  most  terri- 
ble thing  is  that  I  can  live,  laugh,  and  talk,  and 
even  enjoy,  now  that  the  years  have  brought 
calm.  It  is  shocking  that  the  heart  is  not  more 
constant.  I  had  thought  never  to  smile  when  I 
laid  him  away  forever,"  and  the  Duchess  heaved 
a  deep  sigh. 

"  It  is  horrible  to  cease  to  suffer  as  keenly," 
said  Paula.  "  Ah !  how  I  understand  you.  But 
it  is  only  lost  for  a  moment.  The  old  agony  re- 
turns." 

After  a  few  moments'  reflection  Madame  de 
Fortes  turned  and  looked  at  Paula,  whose  pretty 
head,  rising  above  the  sable  collar  of  her  opera 
cloak,  was  just  then  thrown  into  relief  by  a  gas 
lamp  in  the  street. 

"  Since  nothing  is  irremediable,  since  the  good 
God  has  so  willed  it,  Madame  Norvoude,  we  ought 
to  ...  forgive  each  other." 

"  Should  one  who  has  robbed  us  forever  of  hope 
and  of  faith  be  forgiven  ? "  said  Paula  in  a  hardly 
audible  whisper. 

"  In  healthy  minds,"  said  the  Duchess  decidedly, 
"  hope  springs  afresh,  and  even  faith.  K~o  human 
being  can  really  rob  us  of  them.  Yes,  they  spring 
again  when  we  have  thought  them  lost  beyond  re- 
claim." 


328  A   PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"Could  you  trust  one  who  had  once  deceived 
you  ? " 

Paula  fixed  her  deep  eyes  upon  the  Duchess, 
stretching  out  one  hand  toward  her  with  an  almost 
despairing  gesture.  Madame  de  Fortes  took  the 
long,  slender  fingers  for  a  moment  into  her  fat,  lit- 
tle palm,  and  squeezed  them  kindly. 

"  Yes,  perhaps,"  she  said,  and  they  drove  home- 
ward silently. 

"  Shall  you  see  your  husband,  Sophie  ? "  asked 
Paula  of  her  maid,  while  the  latter  disrobed  her  in 
the  early  hours  of  a  damp  dawn. 

This  husband  was  valet  to  a  certain  Mr.  Del 
Valle,  a  Spanish  gentleman,  who  inhabited  New 
York,  but  was  now  traveling  in  Europe. 

"  No,  madame,  not  until  the  spring.  They  were 
going  to  Switzerland,  but  now  they  stay  in  England. 
Adolphe  is  afraid  of  the  conscription.  He  is  better 
pleased  not  to  come  to  France." 

"  Do  you  love  your  husband,  Sophie  ? " 

"  TVe  have  a  good  friendship.  I  am  content," 
said  the  maid. 

"  But  were  you  never  in  love,  Sophie  ?  " 

"  Once,  madame,  when  I  was  young.  I  loved  a 
man,  but  I  was  poor,  and  his  parents  would  not 
have  me,  so  he  gave  me  up." 

"  And  then  you  married  Adolphe  ? " 


A   PURITAN  PAGAN.  329 

"  Yes ;  he  is  good,"  said  Sophie,  after  a  pause. 
"  All  men  get  tiresome  in  the  end,  madame.  It  is 
all  the  same." 

"  How  old  are  you,  Sophie  ? " 

"  I  am  thirty-one,  madame,  at  Noel." 

"  You  seem  younger." 

"  My  heart  is  young,  madame.     I  like  pleasure." 

"  Good-night,"  said  Paula. 

She  lay  on  her  bed  with  her  arms  clasped  be- 
hind her  head,  her  hands  among  her  heavy  braids, 
thinking,  thinking,  thinking. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

EIGHTEEN  months  later,  one  day  Singleton  Ack- 
ley,  Esq.,  was  sipping  his  matitudinal  coffee,  clad  in 
a  resplendent  dressing  gown,  by  the  fire  in  his 
study.  Here  his  earliest  meal  was  always  brought 
to  him  of  a  morning.  Upon  a  silver  tray  lay  dis- 
posed his  morning's  mail.  He  glanced  through  the 
pile  of  letters  and  papers,  and  recognized  the  Eu- 
ropean postmark  and  Mrs.  Heathcote's  handwriting. 
He  extracted  this  missive  from  among  the  others, 
placed  it  by  the  side  of  his  toast,  but  finished  his 
coffee  before  opening  it. 

"  Ah ! "  he  thought,  not  without  a  tinge  of 
sadness,  "  once  how  impatiently  I  would  have  torn 
open  that  letter !  How  my  heart  would  have 
throbbed  to  bursting!  How  wretched  and  how 
happy  I  was  then!  and  now  .  .  .  now  .  .  .  God 
bless  me  .  .  .  I'm  getting  old ! " 

"We  have  nothing  to  do  with  any  part  of  the  let- 
ter except  its  two  last  pages,  which  we  will  peruse 
over  Mr.  Ackley's  shoulder : 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  331 

"  I  am  not  satisfied,"  wrote  Mrs.  Heathcote, 
"  about  Paula,  our  dear,  sweet  Tragedy.  I  have  al- 
ways felt — and  my  instincts,  you  say,  are  generally 
unerring  in  these  matters — that  she  loved  the  man, 
her  husband,  persistently,  intensely,  in  spite  of  all. 
Because  of  this  I  have  admired  her  for  her  severity, 
for  having  had  the  courage  of  the  separation,  if,  in- 
deed, the  wrong  inflicted  was  a  great  one,  as  I  must 
believe ;  and  yet,  of  course,  had  she  not  cared  for 
him  forgiveness  was  easier.  If  Paula  was  not  en- 
tirely free  from  coquetry  I  should  have  no  fears — 
coquetry  is  such  a  safeguard — but  she  is  serious 
and  passionate  where  others  only  amuse  themselves. 
And  I  may  as  well  tell  you  at  once  that  De  Mon- 
treuil  is  perfectly  and  absolutely  devoted  to  her, 
and  what  is  more  unfortunate,  I  believe  him  to  be 
sincere — in  fact,  desperately  in  love  with  her. 
Now  you  know  and  I  know  perfectly  well  that  all 
real  sentiment  in  this  world  of  shams  is  respectable 
and  impressive,  even  if  it  be  from  the  wrong  man 
to  the  wrong  woman,  however  a  million  hypocriti- 
cal hands  may  be  held  up  in  holy  dismay  and  hor- 
ror at  the  assertion.  De  Montreuil's  sentiments  are 
worth  a  great  deal;  at  any  rate  to  ...  himself. 
Now  if  they  are  not  indifferent  to  Paula  where  will 
the  end  be  ?  She  would  be  more  than  human  if  she 
didn't  like  it — I  mean  the  homage.  Every  woman 
has  liked  it  since  time  was,  and  you  might  as  well 


332  A   PURITAX  PAGAN. 

say  that  the  earth  does  not  move  and  must  not.  E 
pur  si  muove.  Then  this  sort  of  reverential,  ten- 
der, exalted  thing  he  steeps  her  in,  this  adoration,  is 
so  far  more  dangerous  than  a  coarser  pursuit. 

"If  it  is  he  himself  that  she  likes,  not  the  senti- 
ment she  has  inspired  in  him,  nothing  could  be 
more  cruel  for  them  both.  Even  if  her  own  relig- 
ious convictions  sanctioned  for  her  a  legal  separa- 
tion and  a  remarriage — and  I  think  they  do  not — all 
of  his  people  are  rigorous  Catholics  of  the  Catholics. 
She  would  be  ostracized  and  trodden  upon ;  he 
would  be  disinherited  and  discarded.  Every  Paris 
salon  would  be  closed  in  their  faces,  and  only  fancy 
De  Montreuil  in  America !  The  thought  is  too 
grotesque  to  be  entertained.  She  can  not  drag  him 
home  with  her.  Of  course  he's  in  that  condition 
when  men  do  anything.  He  is  bewildered,  frantic  ; 
looks  upon  all  obstacles  as  upon  evil  forces  created 
to  rob  and  keep  him  from  what  he  wants.  What, 
indeed,  are  honor,  family,  religion,  above  all,  social 
position — things  which  you  and  I,  in  our  narrow, 
cold  philosophy,  feel  to  be  extremely  important,  nay, 
imperative — but  mean,  paltry,  contemptible  trifles ! 
All  bosh,  of  course.  We  know  the  whole  splendor 
of  it,  do  we  not  ?  Ah,  dear  friend,  for  it  is  splen- 
did, there  is  nothing  like  it !  The  very  first  whiff 
of  it  makes  one  half  wild  and  young  again  ! 

"  Now  to  be  serious.     You  wrote  me  you  saw 


A  PUEITAN  PAGAN.  333 

Mr.  Norwood  often ;  knew  him  well  now ;  felt  sure 
he  earnestly  desired  a  reconciliation,  but  was  afraid 
of  forcing  things.  Now  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost, 
none.  Say  what  people  will,  this  sort  of  incense 
that  she  is  getting  is  delicious.  It  goes  right  to  a 
woman's  brain,  it  intoxicates.  I  don't  like  it  for 
Paula — not  a  bit.  You  really  must  do  something. 
Stir  Norwood  to  instant  action.  I  dare  say  he's 
stupid ;  he  seems  to  me  awfully  slow.  Why  in 
God's  name  doesn't  the  man  swim  the  Atlantic  ?  I 
dare  say  he  is  a  fool.  A  month  ago  I  know  that 
she  still  loved  him ;  to-day  .  .  ." 

Mr.  Ackley  had  been  intending  to  sail  for  Liver- 
pool two  days  later — he  was  booked  for  the  "  Cepha- 
lonia."  He  would  have  ample  time,  then,  to  see 
Norwood  before  he  departed.  He  thrust  Mrs. 
Heathcote's  letter  into  his  breast  pocket,  and  it 
was  still  there  when  he  drove  out  that  afternoon  to 
see  his  friend  at  the  old  Riverside  house.  He  was 
ushered  into  the  long,  yellow  drawing-room,  and 
was  intent  examining  a  bit  of  fine  Kaga  ware 
which  stood  upon  the  mantel-shelf  when  Norwood 
entered  the  room.  He  was  smoking  a  cigar,  and 
offered  his  visitor  one. 

"  I  hope,"  he  said,  "  you  have  come  to  dine  with 
me.  We  can  take  a  tramp  together  on  the  Heights, 
and  either  stop  at  the  Miramount,"  which  was 
the  name  of  the  restaurant  a  mile  away  up  the 


334  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

bank,  "  or  come  back  if  you  prefer.  I'll  give  you 
pot-luck  here,  and  dare  say  it  won't  be  too  bad.  I 
sent  in  some  fine  salmon  this  morning.  I  had 
work  to  do  to-night,  and  shall  not  go  into  town." 

"  No,  I  won't  dine,  thank  you.  But  I'll  smoke 
with  you  for  a  few  minutes.  I  was  just  poking 
about  in  my  cart,"  said  Mr.  Ackley. 

He  managed  soon  to  introduce  the  name  of  the 
Heathcotes.  "  Mrs.  Heathcote  is  a  charming  wom- 
an," he  said  between  puffs  of  smoke  which  he 
watched  floating  upward,  sitting  with  uplifted  chin. 
He  had  ensconced  his  rotundity  in  a  deep  chair,  and 
looked  a  picture  of  easy  repose. 

"A  charming  woman;  the  only  one  I  know 
who  has  triumphed  over  sex." 

"You  mean  ..."  Norwood  knew  of  his 
wife's  intimacy  with  the  Heathcotes  and  was  on  the 
alert. 

"  That  she  has  never  permitted  her  sex  to  handi- 
cap her  in  any  way.  Sex,  my  dear  Norwood,  has 
paralyzed  and  lost  to  the  world  a  full  half  of  its 
force,  its  will,  and  its  intellect.  But  Mrs.  Heath- 
cote  has  grasped  the  meaning  of  woman's  true 
emancipation." 

"  Yet  I  have  heard  that  she  was  intrinsically 
womanly,  although  so  clever,"  said  Norwood,  blow- 
ing off  some  ashes  from  his  meerschaum. 

"  Yes,  she  is  feminine,  and  that  means  supple, 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  335 

full  of  resource.  First  she  has  used  her  wit  to 
cultivate  her  physique  so  that  she  can  join  men  in 
all  their  pleasures.  She  has  employed  her  brain 
power,  which  is  of  no  mean  order,  to  make  of  her- 
self a  fascinating  woman.  A  shrill-voiced  Yankee 
postmistress  may  be  clever  and  well  educated,  but 
who  wants  mental  somersaults?  Cleverness  is  all 
very  well,  but  what  if  it  accomplishes  nothing? 
Mrs.  Heathcote  has  been  her  husband's  inspiration ; 
she  will  be  that  of  her  sons.  She  has  made  a  great 
many  men  and  undone  a  few.  I  am  one  of  the 
latter.  She  has  undone  me  and  made  me  all  over 
again  a  hundred  times.  True  culture  is  the  aristoc- 
racy of  behavior,  eh  Norwood?  The  "spirit  of 
conduct "  of  the  French  which  whips  us  into  shape 
and  prevents  us  from  treading  on  other  peoples'  toes. 
"Well,  she's  taught  herself  and  others  that  lesson 
perfectly,  as  a  mere  preliminary  canter.  She  never 
had  any  missiness,  any  false  or  mawkish  prudery. 
She  dislikes  pap,  and  she  can  refresh  and  sustain  a 
man  with  the  strong  tonic  of  her  raillery  or  the 
fresh  palliative  of  her  encouragement.  When 
women  make  of  themselves  such  companions  for 
men  who  will  oppose  giving  them  the  ballot? 
Bless  me !  I  wish  we  had  just  such  a  one  to-day 
for  President  of  the  United  States.  But  we  <jan 
not  be  ruled  by  puling  invalids  or  hysteric,  long- 
nosed  Boston  old  maids — an  aggressive  and,  I  am 


336  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

told,  rapidly  increasing  class — who  cackle  like  hens 
over  a  new-laid  egg  every  time  they  bring  forth  a 
mild  idea  or  two.  There's  a  large  contingent  of  that 
kind  going  about,  Norwood.  "With  all  their  vaunted 
knowledge,  they're  a  nuisance.  Man's  only  safety 
is  to  keep  them  out  of  sight,  and  himself  at  bay. 
My  fingers  always  itch  to  get  about  the  neck  of 
one  of  these  creatures  and  wring  it,  although  I 
feebly  compromise  by  taking  to  my  heels.  Such  is 
the  force  of  early  habits  of  gallantry." 

"  You  ought  to  make  a  speech  in  our  next  con- 
vention, Ackley.  You'd  be  a  success,"  said  Nor- 
wood, the  gleam  of  his  fine  teeth  rejuvenating 
him  and  making  him  again  for  the  moment  Paula's 
lover,  eating  luscious  pears  at  Mr.  Sorchan's  table 
and  discussing  with  him  the  insufficiency  of  the 
Jewish  Jehovah.  But  what  ravages  upon  that 
bronzed  face  since  then ! 

"  Oh,  I  don't  meddle  with  politics.  No,  sir ! 
When  they  made  a  man  like  Jared  D.  Bill  twice 
Governor  of  our  State  I  folded  my  pale  hands  so 
meekly,  and  .  .  .  practically  died,  if  not  poetically. 
No,  let  them  cut  their  own  noses  off  a  little  longer 
and  drown  the  poor  in  bad  whisky.  Politically 
my  refrain  is  '  Oh,  to  be  nothing,  nothing ! '  I 
always  join  in  that  hymn  with  enthusiasm." 

"  That  is  a  weakness.  A  man  like  you  ought 
to  come  to  the  fore." 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  337 

"A  pretty  figure  I'd  make  on  a  platform — 
eh  !  " 

Norwood  had 'to  admit  to  himself  that  the 
"  boys  "  might  "  cut  up  "  a  trifle  roughly  if  Single- 
ton should  suddenly  loom  before  them  in  his  present 
apparel,  and  wondered  if  a  clam  shell  might  not  be 
hurled,  playfully,  of  course,  at  the  gentleman's  eye- 


"  No,  no  ;  everybody  must  stay  in  his  own  niche. 
Depend  upon  it,  my  dear  fellow,  I'm  much  bet- 
ter employed  collecting  bric-d-brac.  We  must  all 
understand  our  limitations  and  accept  them.  When 
I  tell  you  my  errand  here  this  evening  will  you 
think  I  am  overstepping  mine  ? " 

"  Never  in  the  world,  I  feel  sure." 

"  Yery  well ;  may  I  speak  to  you  seriously  for 
two  minutes  ? " 

"  For  as  many  hours,  if  you  like." 

Mr.  Ackley  rose,  shook  off  his  monocle  by  that 
contraction  of  the  facial  muscles  which  sent  it  out 
vertically  for  a  moment,  spinning  and  whirling 
helplessly  on  its  retaining  string,  made  a  few  cau- 
tious steps  forward,  looked  about  him,  and  then,  re- 
turning, motioned  Norwood  to  a  seat  closer  to  his 
side.  He  began  to  fumble  in  his  breast  for  a  mo- 
ment, and,  heaving  a  long  breath,  drew  forth  a 
letter. 

"  I  will  tell  you,  then,"  he  said  without  further 
22 


338  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

circumlocution,  "  that  I  have  come  to  speak  to  you 
about  your  wife." 

Norwood  blanched. 

"  Has  she  sent  you  ? "  he  asked  huskily,  spring- 
ing to  his  feet  and  facing  Mr.  Ackley. 

"No,  she  has  not.  I  wish  she  had.  Am  I 
right  in  my  belief  that  you  wish  so  too  ? " 

Norwood  cleared  a  parched  throat  and  bowed 
his  head,  which  remained  bent  forward  upon  his 
breast. 

"  I  won't  waste  any  time  in  idle  apologies  for 
intruding  into  your  private  affairs,  and  what  not. 
I  came  to  please  Mrs.  Heathcote,  and  there's 
nothing  she  would  deprecate  so  much.  She  hates 
phrases,  and  so  do  we  Norwood,  you  and  I.  I've 
got  a  letter  from  her,  and  I've  brought  it  to  you 
to  read,"  and  as  he  spoke  he  handed  Norwood 
the  letter  of  the  morning.  It  was  a  bold  stroke ; 
but  Mrs.  Heathcote  had  said  he  was  a  Cavour, 
so  it  must  be  supposed  he  knew  what  he  was 
about. 

Norwood  took  it  and  read  from  the  passage 
which  Mr.  Ackley  indicated.  He  read  it  twice 
slowly.  Then,  keen  of  judgment  as  he  was,  and 
prompt  of  action,  so  ready  with  parry  and  thrust  in 
the  court-room,  so  dreaded  by  his  antagonists,  he 
looked  up  helplessly  at  the  man  of  the  world. 

"  Shall  I  go  at  once,  Ackley  ? "  he  said.     "  Ad- 


A   PURITAN  PAGAN.  339 

vise  me  !  It  will  be  my  last  chance,  my  last  die 
with  her." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Ackley,  "I'll  go." 

"You?" 

"  I  sail  day  after  to-morrow  at  dawn.  I  shall 
be  over  there  in  a  little  more  than  a  week.  The 
Cephalonia's  an  arrow,  the  weather  splendid,  the 
month  propitious.  I'll  see  her  at  once.  I'll  be 
your  advocate.  What  shall  I  say  to  her?" 

"  Wait,"  said  Norwood,  and  left  the  room. 

lie  returned  presently  with  a  packet  of  letters. 
He  was  tying  them  together  as  he  came  in.  They 
were  his  to  Paula. 

"  Give  her  these,"  he  said,  "  and  swear  to  me 
that  she  reads  them." 

"  I  swear,"  said  Ackley  gravely,  taking  the  let- 
ters. 

"  Tell  her,"  said  Norwood,  leaning  against  the 
mantel  shelf,  "  that  I  love  her.  Tell  her  that  the 
years  have  been  spent  in  manly  work,  whose  only 
impulse  was  her  service.  Tell  her  I  wished  that 
she  should  not  be  ashamed  of  me.  Tell  her  " — this 
with  the  almost  superhuman  effort  which  it  costs 
men  to  say  such  things  to  one  another — "  that  they 
have  been  chaste  years;  that  I  have  looked  into 
no  woman's  eyes  since  I  looked  my  last  into  hers. 
Tell  her,  tell  her,  Ackley,  that  I  have  done  what 
I  have  not  done  since  I  was  a  little  child — I  have 


340  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

prayed !  Tell  her  if  she  will  come  back  to  me  I 
will  be  a  dog  to  her." 

"  Hold  on,  old  man,"  said  Singleton,  "  let  me 
off  on  the  dog.  Women  don't  like  dogs,  unless, 
indeed,  they  be  of  the  kind  that  bite,  and  I  imagine 
that's  not  your  mood  now.  There's  not  much  bite 
in  you  at  present.  You  may  depend  on  me.  I 
have  reached  the  age  when  tact  is  indispensable.  I 
am  not  a  tyro  in  these  matters.  You  go  there  your- 
self ?  No.  Just  wait  until  I  have  made  the  little 
lady  read  all  your  letters.  Then  I'll  telegraph  you, 
and  you  can  come  right  out  and  insist  that  she  shall 
come  home  to  you." 

"  I  have  forfeited  all  right,"  said  Norwood. 

"  Who's  talking  about  rights  ?  Who  cares  for 
them  ?  Do  women  ?  More  women  are  frightened 
away  by  the  assertion  of  rights  than  by  their  for- 
feiture. Never  ask  a  woman's  forgiveness  either ; 
it  makes  'em  frantic.  A  man  is  calmed  down  by 
submissiveness — can  accept  apology — but  a  woman 
is  persuaded  by  the  very  earnestness  of  your  en- 
treaty for  pardon  that  her  wrongs  are  even  deeper 
than  she  first  imagined.  Men  are  canine.  They 
don't  molest  what  lies  down.  But  women  all  have 
a  drop  of  the  tiger  in  them,  and  devilish,  attractive 
it  makes  them,  too !  No,  just  take  her  in  your 
arms — they  look  strong  enough — kiss  her  on  the 
mouth,  and  command  her  to  come  home.  That'll 


A  PURITAN  PAGAK  341 

fetch  her.  I'm  glad  you've  written.  A  letter  is 
surer  to  reach  its  mark  than  an  interview.  The 
tell-tale  faces  are  not  there,  the  cruel  glance,  the 
mocking,  distrustful  smile,  the  covert  allusion,  the 
recrimination,  the  dagger  thrust  that  bleeds  and 
thwarts.  As  to  the  dog,  I've  been  that  kind  all  my 
life — wagging  my  tail,  running  and  carrying.  I 
speak  from  experience.  See  what  it  has  brought 
me  to !  The  women  wear  my  flowers,  come  to  my 
dinner  parties,  crackle  my  bonbons,  say  'He's  a 
dear!'  and  go  off  with  some  other  fellow;  and 
they  always  have,  ever  since  I  was  twenty.  Take 
warning !  " 

"Come,"  said  Norwood,  "give  me  your  hand 
upon  it.  Say  you'll  make  her  read  the  letters. 
The  last  was  written  yesterday.  Then  a  word  to 
me  as  to.  how  she  takes  them,  and  I'll  follow  your 
advice  and  force  her  back  to  me.  But,"  he  added, 
"  why  shouldn't  I  cross  witli  you  ?  I  can  hang  out 
at  some  hotel  while  you  find  her,  and  then  .  .  . 
then  .  .  ." 

"Yery  well,  man,  do  it,  and  make  an  .ass  of 
yourself.  You'll  have  this  French  marquis  or 
baron,  or  whatever  he  is,  by  the  ear  before  I  can 
turn  round  and  look  at  you.  I  haven't  forgotten 
the  gentleman  who  rolled  down  your  office  stairs 
into  my  waistcoat.  There'll  be  fisticuffs  and  a 
devil  of  a  row.  If  you  persist  in  that  course  I'll 


342  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

wash  my  hands  of  the  whole  business.  She'll  be 
offish,  at  first,  and  if  you  are  stupid  all's  up." 

"  It  seems  so  cowardly." 

"  Of  course  it's  cowardly ;  it's  got  to  be.  Give 
her  ten  days  to  want  you  after  she's  read  the  let- 
ters, and  then  .  .  .  come." 

"  I'll  try  to  wait,"  said  Norwood,  and  the  two 
men  walked  down  together  as  far  as  the  gate,  and 
there  they  parted. 

"  Ackley,"  said  Norwood,  "  were  you  ever — 
er— " 

"  Jealous,  eh  ?  You  squirm  at  the  word,  I  see. 
Men  don't  like  to  own  up — it  hurts  their  little 
vanity.  Bless  me,  I've  never  been  anything  else ! 
The  only  woman  I  ever  loved  married  a  man  who 
is  in  every  way  my  superior,  and  fell  in  love  with 
another  who's  not  worthy  to  black  my  boots.  Good 
Gad  !  and  then  you  ask  me  .  .  ." 

""Where  did  it  take  you,  Ackley,  when  the 
spasm  was  upon  you — in  the  knee  joints  or  in  the 
larynx  ? "  said  Norwood  with  a  grim  smile. 

"  I'm  not  romantic.  It  takes  me — use  the  pres- 
ent tense,  if  you  like — it  takes  me  in  the  pit  of  the 
stomach  and  arrests  digestion.  Solids  become  un- 
manageable. I  always  recommend  milk  diet.  It's 
less  heating.  Good-day." 

"  Good-day,"  said  Norwood. 

fie  came  back  into  his  lonely  house. 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  343 

And  then  it  took  him  not  only  in  the  knee 
joints  and  the  larynx,  but  seized  upon  him  and 
shook  him  to  the  very  centers  of  his  being — sent 
him  inadly  pacing  the  floor  with  set  lips  and 
clinched  fingers.  AVhat !  Paula  ?  his  wife  ?  His, 
say  what  they  might — still  his !  What  ?  He  saw 
him,  that  other  one  who  "loved  her  desperate- 
ly," lean  to  her — God  !  touch  her,  touch  her — do 
you  understand  ? — his  Paula !  They  spoke  low 
words,  whispering  together — close — what  were  they 
saying?  He  found  himself  peering  into  the  dark- 
ness, straining  his  ears  as  if  to  listen,  and  the  flesh 
awoke,  with  its  insistence  and  its  torments.  Feel- 
ings long  dormant  and  dulled  by  suffering  and 
hopelessness  woke  again  to  scourge  him.  He 
thought  of  her,  the  lovely,  shy  girl,  the  shrinking, 
timid  young  wife,  and  now  a  woman,  loved  by 
others — nay,  desired  "frantically" — Mrs.  Heath- 
cote  had  said  it — thrown  by  his  sin  into  another's 
arms! 

He  knew  and  saw  it  all  now.  He  had  read  of 
her  triumphs,  but  he  had  not  acknowledged  to  him- 
self his  fears.  She  was  so  pure,  how  could  he 
doubt  her?  But  now — now  he  doubted.  No,  it 
should  not  be — it  could  not.  He  would  do  battle 
for  her  as  the  savages  did  of  old ;  ay,  until  blood 
was  spilled — his  or  that  other  man's,  and  then  she 
would  be  his  once  more.  Ah !  that  he  might  have 


344  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

had  him  by  the  throat  to-night !  but  he  was  only 
grappling  with  that  passion  whose  fierceness  fights 
shadows  light  as  air.  It  was  a  fearful  night.  At 
dawn  he  was  writing  at  his  desk.  He  made  many 
arrangements.  In  ten  or  twelve  days  he  would 
be  leaving  America,  perhaps  sooner.  Perhaps  he 
would  find  he  could  not  wait,  and  no  one  knew 
what  might  happen. 

Among  other  things  he  wrote  and  sent  more 
money — more  than  was  needed — to  the  West ;  for 
there  Mabel  Brentworth's  unfortunate  child  was 
being  brought  up. 

A  widow — a  lady,  a  kind  and  gentle  person,  left 
to  struggle  alone  with  an  only  daughter  upon  a  dis- 
tant ranch — had  been  found  willing  to  take  him  in  ; 
willing,  I  say,  for  at  first  it  had  been  with  sighs 
and  conditions,  the  only  inducement  being  the  lib- 
eral payment.  But  now  she  had  learned  to  love 
him  and  even  had  expressed  herself  inclined  to 
adopt  him  as  her  own.  For  this  babe  who  should 
have  died — seeing  that  he  was  superfluous  in  a  uni- 
verse already  overpeopled,  had  failed  to  show,  I 
will  not  say  the  proper  savoir  vivre,  but  the  req- 
uisite savoir  mourir.  It  was  lamentable,  nay,  un- 
pardonable. In  fiction  such  children  are  obliging 
enough  to  die ;  in  real  life  they  sometimes  thrive. 
The  boy  had  thriven.  He  was  a  robust,  handsome, 
stalwart,  intelligent,  little  lad,  quick  to  fight  with 


A   PURITAN  PAGAN.  345 

his  fat,  rosy  fists,  quick  to  make  up  with  laughter 
and  a  kiss.  He  was  a  jolly,  merry,  noisy  little  fel- 
low, fond  of  romping  and  of  play.  He  lived  and 
meant  to  live,  and  nobody  should  challenge  his 
right  to  do  so.  He  bore  his  mother's  maiden  name 
and  passed  for  an  orphan  with  no  near  relatives,  but 
with  money,  money  in  plenty.  The  remittances 
that  came  for  him  were  more  than  generous.  And 
here  we  will  leave  him.  Of  his  future  we  can  not 
speak,  since  it  is  not  here. 


CHAPTEE  XXIV. 

THE  lover  lias  two  battle-grounds  upon  which  to 
test  his  powers — a  woman's  drawing-room  and  a 
woman's  imagination.  In  the  superficial  shallows 
of  the  former  he  is  rarely  conqueror ;  in  the  agi- 
tated depths  of  the  latter,  almost  always,  for  women 
invariably  find  chimeras  harder  to  fight  than  reali- 
ties. When  he  arrives — the  creature  clothed  with 
the  limitations  that  the  flesh  imposes — he  is  often 
divested  of  half  his  attributes.  A  foolish  word, 
some  personal  defect  or  perverse  habit,  some  neg- 
ligence of  attitude  or  dress,  which  women  are  quick 
to  interpret  as  a  lack  of  respect,  a  want  of  tact  or 
grace,  which  jars  or  annoys,  may  rob  him  in  a  mo- 
ment of  prestige  and  convert  him  into  a  paltry  ad- 
versary, after  all.  She  will  smile  at  her  terrors. 

Paula  was  passing  an  autumn  afternoon  in  Paris 
occupied  in  the  adornment  of  her  person,  such 
care  of  the  toilet  as  a  woman  of  self-respect  be- 
stows upon  herself  before  receiving  acquaintance  or 
friend.  Tad  Nailer  was  announced,  but  she  was 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  347 

not  dressing  for  Tad,  and  so  she  informed  him, 
standing  behind  a  flower  pot  with  her  hair  hanging 
down  her  back.  The  flower  pot  obscured  his  view 
of  her  as  her  graceful  form  swayed  upon  the  thresh- 
old of  her  rose-curtained  bed-chamber. 

"  Tad,  dear,  I'm  so  awfully  sorry,  but  won't  you 
please  go  away  ? " 

"  That's  what  Mrs.  Heathcote  just  said  to  me  at 
the  legation,"  replied  the  visitor  thus  abjured  de- 
spondingly. 

"  I'm  so  sorry — but  you  see  .  .  ." 

"  I  see  you're  expecting  somebody  else." 

"Yes— frankly,  lam." 

"  So  was  Mrs.  Heathcote." 

"  Really  ?  I  wonder  whoever  it  could  have 
been?" 

"  It  wasn't  me  ?  That's  the  important ;  nobody 
ever  does  expect  me." 

"OTad!" 

"  Well,  I'm  sorry.  I  came  to  say  good-by.  I'll 
run  in  again." 

"  Wait  a  minute.     I'll  put  on  something." 

"  No,  don't  bother.  I  only  came  over  here,  you 
know,  to  get  marma,  and  now  I've  got  her  I  must 
sail  at  once.  It's  been  pretty  hard  work,  and  I 
don't  want  her  to  give  me  the  slip  at  the  last  mo- 
ment." 

"  Ah !  she  has  liked  it  over  here  ? "  said  Paula. 


348  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

"  She's  had  lots  of  fun,  but  the  governor  says 
she's  spent  too  much  money,  and  he's  sent  me  over 
to  stop  her." 

Mrs.  Nailer  had,  indeed,  "  had  fun."  She  had 
drifted  about  and  in  and  out  of  various  European 
cities  and  watering  places,  husbandless  and  sonless. 
During  these  peregrinations — Tad  back  in  America 
— she  had  left  behind  her  a  trail  of  glory  which  had 
dazzled  no  vision  but  her  own.  Mrs.  Nailer  had  no 
humor,  therefore  the  vistas  of  her  triumphs,  which 
she  confided  to  Tad,  were  not  dimmed.  She  told 
her  son  that  it  was  her  conviction  that,  if  she  had 
not  been  such  a  fool  as  to  marry,  at  an  age  too 
early  for  responsible  decisions,  her  present  husband 
(Tad's  father)  she  would  have  been  offered  one 
of  the  European  crowns — for  the  sake  of  proba- 
bility, we  will  say  the  .  .  .  Bulgarian.  And  Tad 
had  been  much  impressed  by  the  revelations  of  these 
retrospective  sacrifices,  although  he  had  vaguely 
wondered  where  he  would  have  been  under  the 
circumstances.  He  generously  avoided,  however, 
putting  the  inquiry  into  words,  not  wishing  that  the 
splendor  of  his  mother's  experiences  should  be  for- 
feited through  any  fault  of  his. 

Across  the  dark  leaves  of  the  gardenia  flowers 
Paula  gave  him  her  hand  to  kiss,  and  after  this 
leave-taking  Tad  got  himself  out.  Paula,  who  had 
done  a  very  foolish  thing  that  morning,  was,  there- 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  349 

fore,  left  alone  again  to  ponder  over  and  regret  it. 
The  adorning  processes  continued,  her  maid  being 
called  upon  to  dress  and  undress  her  hair  four 
times,  while  the  mistress  changed  her  mind  at  least 
six  about  the  frock  she  would  wear.  She  finally 
hurried,  with  less  care  than  usual,  into  one  she  dis- 
liked. She  was  in  such  haste,  indeed,  to  reach  the 
drawing-rooms  that  she  could  hardly  be  induced  to 
wait  for  the  adjustment  of  soft  chiffon  at  the  throat, 
and  pulled  up  her  long  gloves  with  a  nervous  im- 
patience, as  if  her  very  existence  depended  upon 
a  moment's  delay.  When  she  approached  the  draw- 
ing-room clock  to  see  the  hour  for  herself,  she  was 
surprised  to  find  that  she  was  ready  a  half -hour, 
nay,  forty  minutes  too  soon.  She  told  herself  that 
when  the  hand  had  crossed  the  half-hour — it  was 
now  twenty  minutes  after  four — it  would  not  seem 
so  very  long. 

For  Paula,  after  having  summarily  dismissed 
the  Prince,  in  a  manner  he  had  called  harsh  and 
heartless,  had,  with  true  feminine  inconsistency, 
written  him  a  note  that  day  asking  him  to  come 
and  take  tea  with  her.  Yes,  as  senselessly  as  that, 
without  explanation  and  without  excuse.  The  fact 
is,  the  Prince  had  obeyed  her  imperious  injunction 
to  leave  her  so  implicitly,  without  making  one  sign 
of  life  since  her  cruelty,  that  he  had  grown,  and 
now  towered  into  a  giant.  She  told  herself  that 


350  A   PURITAN  PAGAN. 

she  wished  to  see  him  just  once  more,  to  gauge  his 
height  and  breadth  more  accurately,  for  his  present 
proportions  upon  her  horizon  had  become  alarming, 
obscuring  the  heavens.  Curiously,  too,  he  had  not 
answered  her  note  of  the  morning.  She  wished 
now  it  had  been  in  the  form  of  a  question — a  ques- 
tion requiring  reply,  and  not  as  it  had  been,  a  sum- 
mons. For  the  six  hours  which  must  intervene 
between  her  message  and  his  arrival,  and  which 
were  now  nearly  spent,  had,  it  must  be  acknowl- 
edged, dragged  heavily.  The  hours  had  not  been 
agreeable  ones.  A  word  from  him  would  have 
been  a  distraction. 

De  Montreuil  had  been  to  Paula  like  a  strain 
of  music  which  drowns  and  drugs  the  memory  of 
pain,  an  anchorage  to  her  wavering  will  and  fancy. 
This  spell  once  willfully  broken,  she  had  found  her- 
self adrift  again  upon  a  stormy  sea.  His  presence 
brought  her  rest  and  sympathy.  She  found,  to  her 
surprise,  that  his  absence  left  her  excited  and  dis- 
satisfied. 

She  had  expected  a  letter  from  him  for  two 
weeks.  It  had  not  come.  He  had  not  come.  The 
person  who  keeps  us  waiting  is  never  insignificant. 
Monsieur  de  Montreuil  was  a  very  clever  young 
prince  indeed.  The  man  who,  after  pouring  out 
assiduous  homage  at  a  woman's  feet,  suddenly  with- 
draws, is  probably  nearer  the  attainment  of  his  de- 


A   PURITAN  PAGAN.  351 

sires  than  ever  before  or  after.  The  recollection 
of  what  one  has  had  and  lost  becomes  oppressive. 

With  shame  and  annoyance  Paula  found  herself 
a  prey  to  this  peculiar  form  of  suffering.  After 
listening  to  every  footfall  for  a  fortnight,  scanning 
eagerly  every  letter,  hearkening  with  avidity  to 
every  whispered  word  or  message,  receiving  bonbons 
and  flowers  .  .  .  from  other  sources,  she  entered 
into  a  state  of  irritability  amounting  to  monomania. 
Her  pride  rebelled,  her  delicacy  was  shocked ;  but 
she  had  to  acknowledge  to  herself  that  she  was  van- 
quished. "  If,"  she  thought,  "  I  could  but  grapple 
with  it,  see  him  once,  talk  and  laugh  with  him 
wholesomely,  it  would  all  be  as  nothing." 

Now  twenty  minutes  more — the  hands  were 
slowly  moving  on — and  she  would  know  if  he  had 
received  her  word,  if  he  were  coming.  She  rang 
and  began  to  give  the  servant  minute  instructions 
as  to  possible  visitors.  She  spoke  to  him  gently, 
as  one  can  to  French  domestics,  who  serve  one  best 
when  treated  with  confidence.  It  is  the  English 
servant  who  must  be  bullied;  to  him  nothing  can 
be  explained.  She  told  the  man  to  bring  her  all 
cards  and  she  would  decide  whether  she  would  re- 
ceive or  no.  After  a  quarter  before  five  no  one 
was  to  be  sent  away.  Then  she  remembered  the 
porter.  The  porter  must  be  told  she  was  at  home. 
What  i*  De  Montreuil  had  already  called  and  had 


352  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

been  misled  and  had  left  ?  After  the  servant  closed 
the  door  her  heart  sank.  He  was  rather  stupid. 
Her  directions  had  probably  been  too  intricate. 
She  rang  again,  but  when  she  saw  him  felt  ashamed 
and  only  bade  him  throw  more  wood  on  the  fire  in 
a  room  which  was  already  overwarm.  At  eighteen 
minutes  before  five  Comte  de  Freysne's  card  was 
brought  up  to  her.  She  sent  word  "  not  receiving." 
Of  course  it  was  too  early  for  De  Montreuil ;  but 
she  had  trembled,  and  it  was  not  with  cold.  At 
ten  minutes  before  five  some  women's  cards  were 
brought  to  her.  She  sent  word,  "Out."  Then 
she  had  a  panic.  If  De  Montreuil  were  on  the 
stairs  at  the  same  moment  and  heard  the  verdict, 
he,  too,  would  depart  incensed.  When  five  o'clock 
came  and  no  De  Montreuil,  she  could  no  longer  sit 
still ;  she  rose  and  walked  about  the  room,  trailing 
her  long,  moss-colored  gown  behind  her,  pushing 
from  her  passage  all  obstacles  with  a  childish  petu- 
lance. Then  she  ran  into  her  room  to  readjust  a 
fallen  mesh  of  hair.  She  tore  out  half  of  it,  and 
her  eyes  filled  with  the  pain,  and  with  something 
else,  half  stifled  and  less  physical.  Her  bedroom 
clock  said  five  minutes  after  five.  The  drawing- 
room  was  five  minutes  faster — ten  after  the  hour. 
When  he  did  come  at  last  she  was  reduced  to  a 
miserable  limp  heap  in  a  corner  of  the  sofa,  with 
lips  that  were  very  white.  It  was  exactly  as  she 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  353 

had  expected.  He  was  much  less  important  or 
imposing  than  she  had  pictured  him,  and  the  reac- 
tion threw  her  into  a  state  of  exalted  gayety  entirely 
foreign  to  her  usual  seriousness. 

Not  unused  to  feminine  mystery  De  Montreuil 
may  have  read  between  the  lines  of  her  factitious 
merriment,  but  he  was  too  politic  to  betray  himself. 
De  Montreuil  was  in  love  with  Paula,  but  love, 
which  makes  some  of  us  flounder  and  blunder, 
teaches  craft  and  diplomacy  to  others.  It  must  be 
conceded  his  policy  had  been  a  wise  one,  and  the 
intense  joy  that  her  summons  liad  given  him  had 
fully  repaid  him  for  the  long  period  of  self-restraint 
and  of  pain.  He  was  too  wise,  however,  to  show 
his  triumph,  and  the  most  lynx-eyed  observer  would 
have  failed  to  detect  one  trace  of  exultation  in  the 
deep  humility  of  his  attitude.  De  Montreuil  was 
one  of  those  rare  men  who  can  take  a  woman's  hand 
and  replace  her  upon  the  pedestal  from  which  she 
has  herself  stepped  down.  He  was  an  artist  in 
matters  of  the  heart.  Indeed,  he  played  his  part 
so  well  that  afternoon  that  he  deserved  a  better 
fate  than  was  to  be  his.  But  before  the  seismic 
forces  of  upheaved  nature,  before  the  unexpected 
convulsion  of  the  cyclone,  man's  genius  is  impotent. 
He  must  needs  furl  his  sails  and  acknowledge  him- 
self beaten.  Who  does  not  remember  Gilliatt's  cry 

in  the  tempest,  "  Grace  !  " 
23 


354:  A   PURITAN   PAGAN. 

A  storm  was  even  now  brewing  which  was  to 
hurl  De  Montreuil's  slight  bark  upon  the  reef 
where  it  should  founder.  He  had  once  said  to 
Paula,  "  I  felt  you  were  a  Gibraltar."  The  speech 
for  him  was  to  prove  prophetic.  But  all  these 
things  must  be.  They  are  a  part  of  each  human 
lot;  only  when  one  is  ardently  in  love  philosophy 
sleeps.  De  Montreuil  never  forgot  the  lesson  which 
was  taught  to  him  that  afternoon.  He  only  under- 
stood it  many  years  afterward. 

His  presence  to-day  almost  immediately  soothed 
and  calmed  her ;  it  always  did.  They  talked  and 
laughed  like  two  old  friends,  and  she  could  busy 
herself  with  making  tea  for  him  and  speak  lightly 
upon  general  topics  as  if  he  had  never  declared  to 
her  the  degree  of  his  adoration.  He  asked  no  ex- 
planation of  her  relenting,  contenting  himself  with 
watching  her  deft  fingers  among  the  cups,  daintily 
putting  in  cream,  looking  up  at  him  and  saying, 
"  How  many  lumps  ? " 

How  womanly  she  was !  how  girlish,  how  pure  ! 
The  poor  fellow  was  happy,  "What  a  heaven  to  be 
by  her  side  once  again  !  He  felt  and  knew  her  in- 
fluence upon  him  to  be  ennobling.  Why,  then,  did 
people  try  to  keep  them  asunder  ?  What  were  peo- 
ple? Puppets  and  shadows.  What  if  he  should 
lose  her  now  ?  As  the  terrible  fear  touched  him 
he  moved  his  chair  nearer  to  hers,  to  where  she  sat 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  355 

close  to  the  low  table,  and  lie  leaned  forward  rever- 
ently over  her  hand.  And  it  was  just  then  that  the 
door  was  thrown  open  and  Jules,  the  servant,  an- 
nounced "  Monsieur  Ackley." 

Singleton's  portly  figure  darkened  the  unfortu- 
nate Prince's  sight  with  a  first  premonition  of  im- 
pending doom.  But  of  course  he  rose,  and  was 
very  civil,  as  we  perforce  must  be  in  such  dilemmas, 
hat  in  hand,  through  the  introduction. 

Mrs.  Norwood  received  her  old  acquaintance 
cordially,  but  it  must  be  admitted  that  his  presence 
was  not  welcome,  and  no  one  was  more  immediately 
cognizant  of  the  fact  than  Mr.  Ackley  himself. 
Nevertheless,  he  laid  down  his  cane  leisurely,  drew 
off  his  light  overcoat,  and,  approaching  the  tea  table, 
asked,  after  the  first  exchange  of  greetings  was  over, 
if  he  might  have  a  cup. 

"  Bread  and  butter  ? " 

"  Yes,  why  not  ?  No  sugar — no — thanks,  a  slice 
of  lemon." 

Had  he  seen  Mrs.  Heathcote  ? 

"  Yes,"  arriving  in  the  night,  he  had  just  been 
to  the  legation  by  appointment.  "  How  charm- 
ingly she  looked — yes,  always  the  same." 

"  And  you,"  he  continued,  scanning  Paula 
through  his  glass,  "  you,  too,  are  looking  well." 

"  Dear  me,  dear  me !  "  he  thought  to  himself, 
"  What  a  chano;e  since  I  first  saw  her  at  that  horrid 


356  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

sea  place.  What  poise !  But,  of  course,  she's  got 
to  drop  all  this  and  come  home.  Nice  fellow,  this 
French  boy  !  Yes,  desperate,  too.  He  shows  it  in 
the  back  of  his  head,  of  which  I  caught  a  reflection 
in  the  mirror  as  I  came  in.  One  can  always  tell  if 
a  man  is  serious  by  the  expression  of  the  back  of 
the  head.  There's  something  about  the  hair.  The 
feet,  too,  turned  in  under  his  chair.  He's  got  it 
badly,  I  can  see  that.  He  carries  it  less  awkwardly, 
however,  than  the  generality  of  males." 

After  frantically  fretting  on  the  bit  for  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  De  Montreuil,  seeing  this  hateful  in- 
terloper had  come  to  stay,  stooped  over  Paula's 
hand  and  made  his  adieus.  He  could  not  stand  this 
any  longer.  In  such  a  case  the  American  sits  down 
to  a  siege.  But  centuries  of  civilization  have  taught 
the  European  to  retire  with  dignity.  He  does  not 
feel  compelled  to  remain  and  fight  for  the  sole  pos- 
sessorship  of  his  woman.  He  withdraws  in  good 
order,  with  a  large  belief  in  the  morrow.  He  de- 
cided that  he  would  write  to  her  and  ask  to  be  al- 
lowed to  return  that  night,  or,  at  the  very  latest,  on 
the  following  day.  But  De  Montreuil's  hopes  were 
to  know  no  to-morrow. 

I  was  not  told  what  Mr.  Ackley  said  to  Paula — 
no  one  has  ever  known.  She  has  not  spoken  and 
he  has  not  divulged.  Let  us  never  doubt  or  belittle 
the  potency  of  words.  A  word  has  made  and  un- 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  35? 

done  a  nation.  A  well-turned  sentence  has  stopped 
the  course  of  empire.  All  I  know  is  that  the  night 
found  her  eagerly  devouring  her  husband's  letters, 
and  that  in  their  perusal  De  Montreuil  from  his  in- 
secure footing  was  swept  forever.  One  by  one  she 
read  them.  Ah,  what  a  task  !  Read,  read,  until  her 
eyes  throbbed,  her  head  reeled,  and  she  sank  to  her 
knees  with  the  papers  clutched  in  her  hands  and 
against  her  breast.  There  was  one  that  was  so  dear, 
so  dear — that  first  one  that  she  had  spurned  and 
tossed  back  at  him  in  the  bitterness  of  her  resent- 
ment. How  it  burned  and  scorched  her  now !  and 
it  did  so  because  of  its  truth — she  knew  that  it  was 
true ;  not  to  be  despised,  not  to  be  rejected ;  a 
man's  very  life  blood  drawn  from  his  veins.  He 
who  so  wrote  might  have  been  capable  of  error,  but 
not  of  baseness.  Did  she  not  herself  hope  for 
grace  and  for  forgiveness  ?  It  was  a  solemn  hour ; 
the  most  solemn  of  all  Paula's  life,  for  all  the  let- 
ters were  but  one  hopeless  imploring.  "  O  Paula ! " 
they  said  "  Ifave  mercy !  Come  back  to  me ! " 

"  O  Christ,"  she  cried,  upon  her  knees,  "  have 
mercy  upon  us  both  !  "  and  with  this  invocation  all 
the  anger,  all  the  jealous  fury  which  had  so  often 
racked  and  ravaged  her  seemed  to  fall ;  and  when 
dawn,  creeping  in  spectrally  at  the  open  window, 
found  her  still  kneeling,  wounded  Love  had  folded 
his  hands  and  laid  down  his  arms.  She  felt  that  the 


358  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

truce  was  the  herald  of  an  ended  combat.  An  angel 
of  compassion  seemed  to  beckon  her  tired  spirit  to 
tread  higher  paths  than  she  had  ever  reached  before. 
Such  spiritual  visitants  are  not  infrequent  when  the 
soul  is  lifted  for  a  moment  to  the  realms  in  which 
they  dwell. 

As  the  dawn  melted  into  the  day's  effulgence, 
the  apocalyptic  vision  had  left  with  Paula's  storm- 
tossed  spirit  an  ineffable  peace. 


CHAPTER  XXY. 

NORWOOD  did  not  sail.  He  received  this  cable 
from  Singleton  Acklej : 

"Do  not  stir.  She  is  going  home.  I  advise 
you  to  give  her  the  initiative." 

The  day  after  reading  her  husband's  letters 
Paula  announced  her  determination  to  her  aunt. 

"  Aunt  Amy,"  she  said,  "  I  have  just  time  to 
catch  the  Champagne.  I  can  reach  Havre  to-mor- 
row morning.  I  am  homesick  for  America.  Will 
you  let  me  go  ? " 

"  Are  you  going  back  to  him  f  "  said  Mrs.  Sor- 
chan,  laying  down  her  book. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Paula,  paling.  "  Forgive 
me,  Aunt  Amy,  I  must  go  back  to  America,  or  ... 
die!" 

Mrs.  Sorchan  rang  the  bell.  "  Jules,"  she  said, 
when  the  servant  responded,  "  I  will  give  you  some 
bills  to  pay.  You  can  stop  at  the  bank  for  money. 
Go  to  Felix's  and  tell  them  to  send  our  gowns  at  once, 
finished  or  not.  I  will  also  give  you  a  note  to  the 


360  A  PURITAN   PAGAN. 

legation  and  one  for  the  Duchess  de  Fortes.  Send 
the  maids  here  to  me,  and  be  quick  about  it,  do  you 
hear  ?  and — wait ;  bring  me  a  cable  blank." 

"  What ! "  said  Paula,  "  you  will  go  too  ?  Aunt 
Amy,  I  had  no  right  to  expect  it  of  you.  I  know 
you  must  think  me  inexplicable." 

Then  the  old  woman  began  to  weep. 

Paula  was  a  good  sailor,  and  when,  two  weeks 
later,  Frau  Sclmltz  folded  her  to  her  bosom  in  her 
aunt's  house  on  the  square  she  said  to  her :  "  Ach, 
my  angel,  how  beautiful  you  have  grown ! " 

They  had  landed  very  early  in  the  morning. 
Paula  sent  word  to  a  friend  to  whom  she  had  lent 
her  saddle  horse,  and  who  had  also  cared  for  old 
Gyp  during  her  absence,  that  horse  and  dog  must 
be  brought  to  her  that  afternoon,  as  she  wished  to 
ride. 

"  Unpack  my  riding  things  at  once,"  she  com- 
manded her  maid  when  the  last  boxes  had  lumbered 
up  to  the  front  door.  "They  are  all  together  in 
the  English  trunk." 

Her  aunt's  groom  had  come  around  from  the 
stables  for  his  orders,  and  was  told  to  be  in  readi- 
ness to  follow  her  at  four  o'clock.  It  was  all  rather 
startling,  but  her  orders  were  given  peremptorily. 

Molded  snugly  into  her  London  habit,  her  hair 
coiled  into  a  tight  knot,  her  veil  just  drawn  across 
her  upper  lip,  her  dark  eyes  luminous  as  if  with 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  361 

some  fixed  purpose  of  expectancy,  Paula  presented 
a  very  charming  appearance  as  she  rode  up  the 
avenue.  The  passers-by  turned  and  looked  at  her 
with  that  curiosity  and  interest  that  the  "  lady  on 
horseback"  still  awakens  in  the  streets  of  our 
American  cities.  It  was  a  holiday.  All  the  world 
was  astir  and  agog.  The  thoroughfares  were  full 
of  festal  people  bent  on  their  errands  of  pleasure. 
When  she  left  the  crowded  town  behind  her  and 
turned  her  horse's  head  riverward,  Paula  had  little 
time  to  notice  the  upturned  faces  of  admiration 
lifted  to  pay  tribute  to  her  beauty.  Her  steed  re- 
quired her  undivided  attention ;  her  hands  were 
full  with  his  guidance.  Well  groomed,  well  fed,  a 
trifle  overfresh,  it  was  evident  that  her  friend  had 
respected  the  loan.  He  seemed  to  realize  that  his 
young  mistress  was  once  more  upon  his  strong, 
curveting  back  and  ready  as  of  old  for  a  mad  gal- 
lop. He  was  older,  but  it  seemed  not  wiser. 

As  they  entered  the  drive  Paula  threw  back  at 
her  servant,  "I'll  let  him  out  here;  he's  terribly 
nervous,"  and  off  she  darted  up  the  first  hill  in  and 
out  among  the  carriages — not  very  numerous — 
which  separated  to  let  the  flying  figure  pass  them. 
She  had  not  gone  a  mile  before  she  became  con- 
scious of  a  horse's  hoofs  in  close  pursuit,  and  in 
a  moment  its  rider  was  abreast  of  her. 

"  Mrs.  Norwood ! "     The  speaker  was  Hartman. 


362  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

Hartman's  plans  of  conquest  having  suffered  a 
severe  check  at  Homburg  the  previous  summer, 
where  he  had  met  the  Sorchan  ladies,  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  that  Paula  was  virtuous.  After  some 
rumination  on  the  subject,  he  had  concluded  that  it 
was  childish  but  had  its  sublimities.  There  are 
men  as  ingenuous  as  this.  Paula  was  virtuous 
no  doubt,  but  such  virtue  as  she  possessed  had  not 
been  greatly  strained  in  her  resistance  of  his  re- 
pellent assiduities. 

"  Mrs.  Norwood !  I  thought  you  were  in  Eu- 
rope!" 

He  was  breathless,  and  they  pulled  up  their 
horses  into  a  walk. 

"  I  landed  this  morning." 

"  And  you  now  ride  !     That  is  energy." 

"  Yes,  I  now  ride.  I  wanted  to  breathe  my 
native  air  untrammeled." 

"And  how  could  you  decide  to  tear  yourself 
from  Europe  ? " 

"  I  was  tired  of  looking  at  fossils.  I  found 
that  I  was  becoming  fossilized  and  artificial  my- 
self." 

Paula  was  virtuous,  but  she  was  also  pretty  and 
fashionable.  Hartman  concluded  it  was  worth 
while. 

"  Fossilized !  .  .  .  with  that  color !  " 

"  That  at  least  remains  genuine." 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  353 

It  had  to  be  borne ;  and  to  think  she  was  near- 
ing  her  home,  and  this  creature  beside  her !  She 
had  had  a  mad  longing  to  see  it  once  again  before 
.  .  .  what  ?  Her  dear  home  ?  Ah  !  it  was  almost 
in  sight  now.  Yes,  there  were  the  trees ;  the  dark 
evergreens,  the  copper  beech,  the  plane  under  which 
she  had  swung  of  old. 

The  day  was  very  lovely.  There  was  some- 
thing nuptial  about  it,  a  lingering  warmth  of  sum- 
mer with  the  crispness  of  autumn.  Creation  was 
having  its  holiday,  too — a  last  one,  a  little  hurried 
and  reckless,  before  the  winter.  It  was  beautiful 
with  that  troubling  beauty  of  a  ripe  woman, 
luscious,  generous — that  second  beauty  of  second 
youth,  royal  prerogative  of  rich  natures.  In  the 
night  there  had  been  showers.  The  stones  of  the 
wall,  the  gravel  of  the  road,  were  washed  clean,  and 
sparkled  in  the  sunny  air.  The  grass  smelled  sweet. 
The  river  was  an  emerald.  Here  and  there  a  sail 
broke  its  green  surfaces  and  made  long  undulations 
of  shadow.  White  clouds  chased  each  other  across 
a  dark-blue  sky,  moving  like  goddesses  at  play. 
There  was  gold  and  silver  in  the  light. 

Opposite  Paula's  old  home  some  German  chil- 
dren had  formed  themselves  into  a  circle.  Their 
screams  startled  her  horse.  He  neighed  and  reared. 
A  skillful  horsewoman,  she  kept  her  seat  pluckily, 
speaking  to  him  and  using  her  whip  once  or  twice 


364  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

sharply  to  subdue  him  into  obedience.  A  man  who 
was  leaning  on  the  parapet  looking  out  at  the  river 
turned  at  this  moment  to  cross  the  road.  She  did 
not  know  how  it  was — she  never  knew — but  before 
she  could  control  her  horse  he  had  plunged  for- 
ward and  was  almost  upon  the  man — the  tall,  gray-, 
haired  stranger  with  stooping  shoulders,  whom  she 
did  not  recognize.  She  screamed,  and  her  lids 
closed  in  terror.  When  she  raised  them  he  held 
her  bridle.  The  horse  was  standing  still.  He  took 
off  his  hat.  It  was  her  husband.  He  lifted  his 
eyes  and  in  their  tired  depths  she  read  the  story 
of  the  years  in  all  its  unspoken  eloquence.  She 
gave  her  horse  a  lash  across  his  shoulder,  and 
in  a  moment  had  bounded  forward,  followed  by 
Hartman. 

"  You  very  nearly  ran  over  and  killed  that  fel- 
low," he  said  to  Mrs.  Norwood,  galloping  up  to 
her ;  "  but  I  don't  suppose  a  man  or  two  less  in  the 
world  would  ruffle  your  calm.  Manslaughter  in 
the  first  degree  or  justifiable  homicide  are  alike  to 
your  superb  disdain." 

"  Am  I  a  ghoul,  do  you  think,  who  plays  with 
dead  men's  bones?"  she  asked  with  a  bitterness 
that  escaped  him. 

"  You  are  a  fair  woman  who  plays  with  live 
men's  hearts,"  he  answered,  leaning  in  his  saddle 
toward  her. 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  .  365 

It  was  a  pretty  enough  speech,  such  as  women 
like. 

She  looked  at  him.  How  horrible  he  was  with 
his  sensual  lips  so  near!  How  she  would  have 
liked  to  use  her  whip  across  his  smiling  face !  She 
loathed  him  at  that  moment  with  that  acute  physi- 
cal loathing  of  the  delicate,  high-strung  woman — 
an  emotion  which  rarely  permeates  a  man's  rougher 
being.  That  horror  which  thrills  the  veins  with 
pain — when  a  touch,  even  a  glance,  seems  pollution. 
But  the  world  had  taught  Paula  the  lesson  of  con- 
cealment. Quivering  with  suppressed  agitation, 
she  yet  could  meet  his  words  with  laughter  and 
with  jest. 

It  was  late.  Norwood  sat  alone  in  his  study, 
his  head  bent  down  upon  his  arms.  They  were 
stretched  despondingly  across  the  writing-table 
where  the  lamp's  red  rays  fell  on  his  hair  and  neck. 
He  had  not  moved  for  an  hour.  He  had  not  even 
changed  his  clothes  since  the  moment  he  had 
looked  up  and  seen  her  again — seen  her,  but  not 
his  Paula,  this  proud  beauty  with  defiant  lips. 
Ackley  had  deceived  him,  deceived  himself.  She 
was  not  for  him.  That  dream  was  over.  Outside, 
amid  the  desolation  of  the  lonely  garden,  the  chrys- 
anthemums were  in  bloom,  their  still,  white  faces 
turned  upward  to  a  glorious  moon.  On  the  porch 
the  pale  autumn  roses  twined  their  network  of 


366  A  PURITAN  PAGAN. 

branches,  swinging  on  the  river  gusts.  They 
looked  into  the  window  pane  where  they  had 
climbed — looked  in,  as  they  so  often  had  before, 
on  the  silent,  lonely  man,  but  he  felt  that  she  would 
not  care  for  them  any  more.  She  had  not  even 
had  the  grace  to  come  to  her  old  home  alone.  She 
had  dragged  another,  a  lover,  perhaps,  in  her  train, 
merciless  to  the  tryst  of  memory.  She  might  have 
spared  him  this.  She  had  been  so  well  avenged. 

And  then  he  heard  a  rustle  on  the  threshold, 
the  trail  of  a  woman's  garments  on  the  floor.  How 
often  had  this  sound  disturbed  his  vigils,  cheating 
him  with  its  lie — a  wind's  breath,  a  murmur  of  the 
leaves  below !  Once  again  he  looked  up  with  dazed 
eyes  and,  lo,  a  presence !  She  was  wrapped  in  a 
long  fur  coat,  and,  as  she  moved,  she  unclasped  it 
and  it  fell  away  behind  her.  Her  white  satin  gown 
fell  to  her  feet,  draping  her  in  its  rich  folds.  There 
were  pearls  at  her  throat  and  pearls  in  her  dark 
tresses. 

"  Norwood,"  she  said,  "  I  have  come  back.  It 
is  Paula." 

But  he  would  not  believe.  Then  she  drew  near 
and  touched  him. 

"  Norwood,  it  is  Paula." 

He  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  No,  no ! "  he  said,  waving  her  back  and 
shrinking  from  her — "  no,  no  !  I  have  been  alone 


A  PURITAN  PAGAN.  337 

so  long.  It  is  not  true.  You  are  not  real.  It  is 
a  lie.  I  am  afraid  !  " 

Then  she  held  out  compassionate  hands  to  him, 
and  on  her  face  was  a  transfiguring  tenderness. 
She  was  no  timid  girl  now,  but  a  gracious,  serene 
lady,  sweet  and  strong  for  comfort  and  consolation. 

"  You  pity  me,"  he  said.  "I  needed  it ;  I  thank 
you." 

"  Norwood,  I  love  you ! "  She  still  held  her 
hands  out  toward  him,  but  he  still  shrank  from  her. 

"  There  is  another  word,  another  .  .  .  You 
dare  not  speak  .  .  ." 

Then  generously,  like  a  sovereign  who  weighs 
not  the  largess  of  her  gift — 

"  Norwood,"  she  said  to  him,  "  I  trust  you." 

With  a  wild  cry  he  caught  her. 


THK    END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

'l   ;  Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-50m-9,'60(B3610B4)444 


PS 

1475 

C877p 


_gruger  - 
Puritan  pagan 


L  006  849  069  7 


PS 

1473 

C877p 


